


Like a Dumpster on Fire

by madsthenerdygirl



Series: i carry your heart with me [i carry it in my heart] [8]
Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Aftercare, BOTH, Barebacking, Bit of a Humiliation Kink, Blow Jobs, Bondage, But We All Knew That One, Choking, Comfort Sex, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Drunk Sex, Edging, Erotic Photography, Erotic Poetry, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Fisting, Flynn Himself is a Kink, Forced Orgasm, Frottage, Gags, Garcia Flynn is Totally a Sub for Lucy, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, He Proves Himself Wrong, Hot Tub Sex, I Think We're Edging into Definite Dom/sub Territory Now, I'm Going To Hell For This, In-Denial Size Queen Wyatt, Kind of Safe Usually Sane Always Consensual, Kink Negotiation, Lap Sex, Lapdance, Let's Be Fair Flynn's Everything is a Kink, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Nothing but smut, Oh My God, One Shot Collection, Orgasm Delay, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Outfit Kink, Pegging, Polyamory, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Restraints, Roleplay, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Pollen, Shameless Smut, Size Queen Lucy, Smut, Soft!Domme Lucy, Spanking, Strap-Ons, Strip Tease, Stripping, The Author Regrets Nothing, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vibrators, Voice Kink, Voyeurism, What am I doing, Wyatt Thinks He's Vanilla, Wyatt is a Sub in General, and everything, as we go along, sex while high, simultaneously, so many kinks, so much kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-04-27 12:45:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 53
Words: 110,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14425692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsthenerdygirl/pseuds/madsthenerdygirl
Summary: The more intimate episodes in the relationship of our favorite trash OT3.





	1. Fast Learner

**Author's Note:**

> A series of slightly connected smutty oneshots featuring our Trash OT3. It's set generally in the Carry You in My Heart series but you don't have to read those other stories to enjoy these. Putting them in a separate story from Put it With the Rest of the Garbage, my fluffy oneshots series, because these are all very, very NSFW.

Garcia Flynn was ninety percent sure he was going to die.

The thing was, when he’d agreed to this, he hadn’t really considered all of the consequences. He’d just thought, _hell yeah_ , and then hadn’t thought about what all the rest of it would mean.

Now he had Lucy giving him little kitten licks all over his cock while Wyatt watched obediently because Lucy had _told_ him to watch in that sweetly demanding voice of hers and Flynn was really, really, really going to die.

“You’ll want to start out with your hand wrapped around here,” Lucy said, taking Wyatt’s hand and wrapping it around the base of Flynn’s cock. Wyatt squeezed, because, well, Wyatt knew how to give a damn hand job, and Flynn was reminded of the fact that he was going to die.

Lucy flicked her tongue over his slit, peering up at Flynn through her lashes. “You’ll get good at learning when you have to squeeze because he’s close,” she said, speaking to Wyatt but pinning Flynn with her dark, teasing gaze. She leaned forward, swirling her tongue around the head, then sucked gently just at the tip.

Flynn’s hips jerked reflexively, and Wyatt reached up, using his forearm to force Flynn’s hips back against the wall.

Lucy smiled proudly. “Go on then.”

Wyatt gave her a split-second look of alarm, but then gamely tried himself. He was a little less coordinated, messier, but Flynn really didn’t give a fuck when he had Wyatt’s clear enthusiasm to make up for it. Wyatt slid his tongue up the underside from the base to the tip at Lucy’s instruction, sucking on the head, and Flynn’s legs damn near buckled.

“You literally signed up for this,” Lucy told Flynn, probably off of the strangled noise Flynn made in the back of his throat.

“I’m well aware of that,” Flynn shot back, because he had, and he wasn’t regretting it, but now Wyatt was running his mouth all over and sucking and licking, just exploring, and holy shit, Flynn was being reminded that knowing intellectually and actually experiencing were two very, very different things.

“Be sure to have fun with this,” Lucy added, and Flynn was going to kill her, absolutely going to kill her, because she was tugging lightly at his foreskin now, working her tongue underneath it, showing Wyatt how to make Flynn feel like stars were exploding underneath his skin. Precome leaked from the head of his cock and Wyatt, who was also getting a spot on Flynn’s must-kill list, squeezed him at the base with his hand, making Flynn pant and cutting him off.

Wyatt tried next, following Lucy’s example, and Flynn couldn’t help the growl in the back of his throat as he struggled to remember random historical facts, reciting American presidents, something to stave off the pressure he could already feel building at the base of his spine.

Lucy brought her hand up to slide it through the hair at the back of Wyatt’s head, gently tugging or guiding him as she saw fit. “Don’t go too fast,” she warned, because if they’d learned anything from this entire relationship it was that Wyatt Logan went from zero to one hundred and didn’t really seem to have any ability to slow it down or stop at, say, fifty.

Sure enough, the look on Wyatt’s face was a little too determined, and he sucked Flynn down as far as he could go. Flynn choked on his own spit, overwhelmed, even when he hit the back of Wyatt’s throat and Wyatt had to pull back, coughing, while Lucy said, “I told you so.”

The next time went better, Lucy tightening her hold in Wyatt’s hair as he started to sink down too far, murmuring instructions low in his ear—where to swirl his tongue, where to flick it, how to hollow out his cheeks and _suck_.

Sometimes Lucy would use her grip to pull him off and take over, demonstrating for him, her eyes flicking up to Flynn’s face warningly as her tongue and lips worked him. She was well used to all the ways he ticked by now, and it was all Flynn could do to keep himself from finishing this way too soon.

Then she’d pull off and tug Wyatt back, and the torture would start all over again.

Flynn kept a tight grip on the edge of the bed frame and the wall because otherwise he might collapse. Just a little. He wanted to jerk his hips forward, but Wyatt still had his damn forearm over Flynn’s hips, keeping him pinned.

Lucy looked up at him, winking. “You’re doing great, Wyatt,” she said, petting Wyatt’s hair. “Go as slow or fast as you like, play with the pace.”

Flynn glared at her. His part of the deal was essentially ‘stay hard until Wyatt knows what he’s doing’, but Lucy had apparently taken that as a challenge and was now making him regret promising anything.

Part of it, he had to admit, wasn’t the technique or the actual feeling of it. It was the fact that it was Wyatt. He loved Lucy on her knees and he loved getting on his knees for her, but this was a new experience. Wyatt hadn’t ever been with a guy before Flynn, and imagination could only take someone so far. Flynn and Lucy had been working him up to this, helping to give him the confidence. Now the sight of Wyatt—a proud man, a strong man, a man who could kill someone with his bare hands—willingly on his knees, doing this for Flynn, his lips red and wrapped around the head of Flynn’s cock… fuck if it wasn’t almost enough on its own to have Flynn blowing his load.

Lucy whispered something in Wyatt’s ear and Wyatt pulled off, only moving over the head, swirling his tongue before sinking down deep again.

“Fuck, Lucy,” Flynn warned as Wyatt pulled off again, licking another long stripe.

“What?” Lucy asked innocently. Wyatt pulled off completely and looked up at Flynn as well, adopting an equally innocent face.

“I hate you both,” Flynn groaned, tipping his head back so that it thunked against the wall.

“That’s my line,” Wyatt replied cheerfully, and then sucked Flynn all the way down.

“Fuck!” Flynn shouted, which caused Lucy to rise to her feet and grab the back of his neck, pulling him down into a kiss.

“Gotta be quiet,” she warned him, before kissing him again.

Flynn was panting helplessly against her mouth. Wyatt was a fast learner and as the seconds ticked by he grew more confident, even going so far as to explore more, biting at Flynn’s inner thigh, nosing at his balls, sucking a little, before returning to suck him down again.

He had no idea how much time had passed. Five minutes? Ten? Thirty? It felt like he’d been stuck like this forever, right on the edge, dealing with the exquisite torture of holding himself back as he was goddamn assaulted.

“How do you feel, Wyatt?” Lucy asked. Her hand, Flynn noticed, was still in Wyatt’s hair, and she used her grip to pull him back a little. “Think you’ve learned enough?”

Wyatt licked his lips and Flynn wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like. Wyatt flicked his eyes up to Flynn, down to the cock in front of him, then back up to Lucy. He gave a small, sly grin.

“Yeah, I think I’m good.”

Lucy looked up at Flynn, giving him a wicked grin, but it was to Wyatt she said, “Go on, then.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, he was not going to last long at all, and he almost whimpered a little when Lucy brushed her mouth against his. “You too,” she whispered. “Go on then.”

Flynn’s legs buckled a little as he came, everything whiting out for the span of a few seconds before he could catch his breath. Wyatt and Lucy helpfully kept him propped up, which really was the least they could do for pretty much sucking his goddamn brains out. Fuck, _fuck_ , he was probably cursing up a storm and sounding like an idiot but he didn’t care, fuck, he really didn’t care.

He blinked down, clearing his vision, to see Lucy stopping Wyatt from wiping at his mouth. She yanked him to standing and kissed him instead, deep and filthy, and if Flynn had been about ten years younger this whole thing would have started all over again.

“Good job,” Lucy praised, giving Wyatt a final peck on the lips.

“Ten out of ten,” Flynn managed, which was probably the most words he was going to be able to speak for the next half hour.

Wyatt grinned at him, letting Flynn pull him in and kiss him. Apparently giving a blowjob activated Wyatt’s Zen, because he didn’t bite or get ferocious, just hummed happily and went pliant, letting Flynn kiss him as much and as deeply as he pleased, sucking the taste of himself from Wyatt’s tongue.

When he turned to kiss Lucy, however, he saw that she’d stepped back and had another gleam in her eye—the one Flynn had come to call her ‘I’ve got a plan’ gleam.

“Luce?” Wyatt asked, recognizing that look as well.

“Oh, you two thought we were finished.” Lucy’s smile widened. “We’re just getting started.”

Flynn couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face. Hell. Yes.


	2. Variations

Lucy was the last one to bed, as usual—which, honestly, how was she always the one going to bed at like one in the morning and yet Wyatt was the one who couldn’t handle getting up without coffee—but going to bed did not equal her body resting, apparently.

She carefully picked up Flynn’s arm and slid underneath it, wiggling to wedge her feet in between Wyatt’s legs. When the two men went to sleep without her, they ended up migrating towards the middle of the bed in a tangle of limbs, and she had to untangle them in order to claim her rightful place as queen of the mattress.

Once she’d laid down, however, she couldn’t sleep.

She hadn’t really gotten to touch either of them today, not even just in passing. She’d been holed up with files and history books, trying to pinpoint the “turning points” in history, those weak spots that Rittenhouse would target in order to stop the snowballs rolling down the hill, and she hadn’t so much as seen Wyatt or Flynn all day, barely looking up from her papers.

Actually, Flynn was probably the reason why soup and bread had mysteriously appeared at her elbow at some point. Amy’d had to do something similar when Lucy was in college, literally putting food in front of her so Lucy would remember to eat.

But now she was basking in the warmth the two men made, skin to skin all over, and her body was reminding her that these were two very, very attractive men she was sharing a bed with and both of them were very, very skilled at making her feel good.

Flynn would growl at her—literally—if she woke him up, because once he woke up he couldn’t get back to sleep (hence why he was the first one up in the mornings). Wyatt, however…

She poked him in the ribs. “Wyatt.”

He didn’t stir. Some Delta Force senses right there, cowboy.

Lucy shifted so that she was curled over him, her mouth at his ear. She slid her hand down his side, teasing. “Wyatt,” she whispered, her fingertips dancing over the line of his hip. She kissed just below his ear. “Wyatt, wake up.”

He stirred slowly, blinking heavy eyelids at her. “Mm… Luce?”

“Yup.” She nipped at his mouth. “Hey there, soldier.”

Wyatt raised an eyebrow, his eyes growing clearer as he woke up more, and then rolled to look at the clock on the nightstand. “Honey, it’s two a.m.”

“And?” Lucy smiled sweetly, the way that she knew made Wyatt cave. She swung her leg up over his waist now that he was conveniently on his back, rolling her hips. “C’mon, sweetheart, please?” She leaned down, kissing along his jawline. “Pretty please?”

She knew she’d won when Wyatt’s hands came up to grip her hips, his breath catching in his chest. “You’re insatiable.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Lucy asked, even as she let Wyatt slide his hands over her body, like he was relearning the shape of her. “Is it bad that I want you to fill me up, that I want you to make me wet, make me fall apart, Wyatt, please, please, please—”

“Fuck,” Wyatt swore quietly, and then he was pulling her down to kiss her properly. “We gotta be quiet,” he mumbled against her lips.

Lucy nodded. She’d be quiet. She’d be super quiet. Just so long as he kept touching her like that.

She shuddered as Wyatt sat up a little, his hands pushing her forward so that he could get to her breasts, mouthing at them, teasing her with light touches and not the hard suction she always craved. She ground against him, sliding a hand down to work herself, get herself all wet so that he could feel how much she wanted him.

“Jesus Christ,” Wyatt swore, just a tad too loudly.

Lucy kissed him, silencing him. “Who was supposed to be quiet?” she asked, pushing herself back so that she could take his dick in hand and stroke it, get it fully hard.

Wyatt clapped a hand over his own mouth, his eyelids fluttering as Lucy stroked him quickly, determined to get him ready for her. Wyatt was definitely not good at the whole quiet idea, small moans escaping him even with his mouth covered.

When Lucy slid onto him, he almost went cross-eyed. Lucy had to bite down hard on her lower lip to keep the noises in, savoring the stretch the way she always did.

“You’re gonna kill me,” Wyatt hissed through clenched teeth.

He reached up, tucking her hair behind her ear, tenderly cupping her face before he moved his hands down touch her breasts. This was how Wyatt always was—eager to please, sweet and soft, and she loved it just as much as she loved Flynn’s demanding, rough style.

Lucy circled her hips, pushing herself up and down, moving slow and languid. Wyatt didn’t seem to mind, his own body still only partially awake from sleep, and her body on its way down from her energy high. After so long together it was easy to find a rhythm and move together, slow and deep, like the tide.

She leaned down, kissing him, trying to get as much skin to skin contact as possible. Wyatt hummed into her mouth, his hands sliding around to squeeze her ass, help her move with him. She didn’t know how long they moved like that together. Time was, for once, immaterial. It was just the slow, drawn-out slide into orgasm, like honey drizzling down into a bowl.

She couldn’t keep herself sitting up the whole time, not at two in the morning, so she eventually folded herself over, biting down on Wyatt’s shoulder as the change in angle enabled her to get clit stimulation, pulling the whole thing from good to great. Her whine of pleasure was lost in the meat of his shoulder, her hands braced on either side of his head so she could still get leverage to shove herself back onto him.

Wyatt sped up, using his grip on her to hold her in place now so that he could increase his pace. She secretly liked this, liked when one or both of her men lost control a little and had to just kind of take what they needed. It felt just on the edge of too much, too fast, pleasure spilling over her like sticky jam, thick and hot and sweet, and her hips twitched helplessly as that distinctive buzz of orgasm filled her from her fingertips to her curling toes.

She moved her mouth to Wyatt’s ear, whispering for him to _do it, please, come on, fuck me, fuck me until I can’t move, love it when you fill me up_ , until Wyatt turned to bury his face into the crook of her neck to muffle his moan as he came.

They rocked together a few more times before coming to a standstill. She shivered, the aftershocks still working through her, making her twitch with pleasure for another minute or two before finally subsiding.

Wyatt slid out of her and she rolled to the side, back in the middle of him and Flynn. She held obligingly still as Wyatt grabbed the tissues from the box they’d started keeping by the bed and quickly wiped the both of them down. They’d need a shower in the morning, but at the moment her mind was filled with the cotton candy thick afterglow and she couldn’t care less.

“Better?” Wyatt asked, propping himself on his elbow to check that they hadn’t disturbed Flynn.

“Like you didn’t get anything out of it,” Lucy said around a yawn.

Wyatt kissed her softly on the cheek. “Fair point. Go to sleep, honey.”

She didn’t remember falling asleep, but the next thing she knew she was waking up, Wyatt’s arm heavy over her waist, her face mashed into Flynn’s shoulder. He was looking down at her with extreme amusement.

“What?” she whispered, careful not to wake Wyatt.

“You know you think you’re so subtle,” Flynn replied, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “But I always know when you two get up to sex in the middle of the night.”

“Did we wake you up?”

Flynn shook his head, still grinning. “No, but I always have, shall we say, very intense sex dreams when you two have been at it.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. Of course he did. “Be useful and go get me coffee.”

Flynn chuckled, kissing her forehead. “Whatever you say, dear.”

 

* * *

 

Wyatt dreamed about a long, hard body over his. He dreamed about large, rough hands sliding over his skin, lean muscles and corded thighs, a hot demanding mouth. In the dream it was all dark, nothing but shadow, but he didn’t need to see the person’s face or hear their voice to know who they were.

He woke up, hard, Lucy for once still passed out beside him.

When he’d first had these dreams—before they were all together—he’d wake up in a cold sweat, panicked, his veins pumped full of guilt. He’d either refuse to touch himself or he’d do so furtively, refusing to really think about what had caused him to wake up hot and panting and arching against the mattress.

Nowadays, he just sought out Flynn.

He was in the kitchen, of course, making coffee and humming. Nobody else was up yet, which was excellent because it meant Wyatt didn’t have to play coy. He just pressed himself up against Flynn’s back and wrapped his arms around Flynn’s waist, nuzzling at his neck.

“Who are you and what have you done with Wyatt?” Flynn asked, turning in Wyatt’s arms so that he could face him. “Because I’m pretty sure _my_ Wyatt doesn’t voluntarily get up in the morning without a coffee bribe.”

Wyatt just kissed him, hands sliding up underneath Flynn’s shirt, feeling the muscles underneath that tan skin jump in response to his fingers.

Flynn made a pleased noise at the back of his throat, arms wrapping around Wyatt’s waist, and he caught Wyatt’s lower lip momentarily in his teeth before pulling away. “Oh, it’s like that, is it?”

Wyatt nodded, grinding up against Flynn as he dove in to kiss him again. Flynn was obliging, one hand moving down to cup Wyatt’s ass and grind them together better, sliding a thigh in between Wyatt’s legs.

This was perfect, sweeping the last cobwebs out of Wyatt’s mind and replacing it with sharp, pleasurable reality. He might leave it just like this, rubbing off against each other, the hard length of Flynn’s erection tantalizingly brushing against his through the thin fabric of their pajamas.

Flynn swallowed one of Wyatt’s moans as they picked up the pace a little. God, it was almost as good as his dream, if only they could get rid of the damn clothes…

When he tried to yank Flynn’s shirt off, however, Flynn stopped him. “Hold on,” he said, his voice rough and raspy. “Shower, let’s do this in the shower.”

It was smart—everyone else would be waking up and coming into the common area any minute, and they didn’t want to disturb Lucy, who needed all the sleep she could get. But Wyatt still resented the thirty seconds or so it took to get from the kitchen to the bathroom and to put the chair in front of the door.

His hands shook a little as he pulled off his sleep shirt and pants, anticipation making him jumpy. Flynn was faster and the moment he reached out to put his hands on Wyatt, Wyatt felt something inside of him settle.

“There you are,” Flynn murmured encouragingly, sliding his hands over Wyatt’s sides and kissing his neck, slow and steady like they had all the time in the world.

“Garcia,” Wyatt all but whined, a sound he’d never dare make if he thought there was a chance of anyone else hearing them.

Flynn chuckled, walking them back towards the shower, turning on the spray with one hand while he kept the other at the small of Wyatt’s back so that they stayed pressed together, kissing.

“So what’s got you all riled up, huh?” Flynn asked, letting Wyatt grab at him and kiss him everywhere he could reach.

“Dream,” Wyatt mumbled, still a little embarrassed to admit it. It was probably a good thing to have sex dreams about the people you were actually dating, but it still felt a little like telling the head cheerleader that he had a crush on her.

Although the head cheerleader had been Jess so that had kind of worked out in his favor, but, still. Embarrassing as fuck.

“Oh?” Flynn sounded equal parts amused and turned on. “Woke up before the grand finale, I’m guessing.”

Wyatt nodded, keeping his eyes shut so that he didn’t have to see Flynn’s face.

Flynn pulled Wyatt under the now-warm spray, letting the water hit their backs and sides, pressing Wyatt back against the tile and shoving his leg between Wyatt’s thighs, rubbing against him. “We can’t have that, can we?”

Wyatt shook his head, daring to open his eyes only to be met with Flynn’s unabashedly hungry gaze. He still kind of couldn’t believe that he was the one who made Flynn look like that, that Flynn looked at Wyatt and desired him so completely. It made Wyatt’s skin flush hot and feverish.

Flynn slid his leg down and pressed in close, his hand coming down to wrap around their cocks. Wyatt moaned, his mouth falling open, and Flynn pressed the advantage, sliding his tongue into Wyatt’s mouth and kissing him like he’d die if he didn’t, stroking them both fast, rough.

Wyatt clawed at Flynn’s back, stealing gasps of air in between kissing him, his hips thrusting up into the twin sensation of Flynn’s hand and his cock. He felt greedy, desperate, and he didn’t care. Sometimes he did care, sometimes it made remnants of shame twist in the pit of his stomach, but it was getting easier to stamp that down and ignore it in favor of the all-consuming way Flynn kissed him, the way Flynn touched him all over like nothing in the world existed for him except Wyatt’s body.

“Beautiful,” Flynn murmured, moving to suck hard at Wyatt’s neck. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you look like this?”

Wyatt couldn’t even think of a retort. He just groaned as Flynn sucked out what was sure to be a hell of a hickey, hips jerking wildly as the sensation shot straight through his body. He dug his nails into Flynn’s back and shoulders, knowing Flynn didn’t care, that Flynn loved it when Wyatt and Lucy marked him up, wearing the bites and bruises and scratches with pride.

He yanked at Flynn, tugging at his hair until Flynn brought his mouth up and Wyatt could kiss him again, feeling hot all over, wild, unable to control his own body. Flynn shifted his grip a little and oh, fuck, yes—

“Right there, right there, right—Garcia, please, yes, right—” he was totally babbling, but it didn’t matter, because Flynn liked it when Wyatt talked and there was nobody else around to hear. He could be as loud as he wanted, he could sob his release into Flynn’s mouth as orgasm dropped hard into his stomach and made his legs shake, and the only response would be Flynn using his come as lube to finish himself off and come all over both of them.

Wyatt let his head fall back against the wall, the water washing over both of them, breathing hard. Flynn sank his head down, his face pressed to Wyatt’s shoulder.

They didn’t say anything for a minute, both of them just holding one another. Then Flynn pulled back, his thumb coming up to brush over Wyatt’s cheekbone. “How do you feel?” he teased, his voice low and gravely.

Wyatt grinned dopily at him, knowing now the affection the tease was laced with. “I’d feel even better with coffee.”

Flynn rolled his eyes but kissed him again, pulling Wyatt off the tiled wall to wrap his arms around him properly. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” Flynn told him when he pulled away, their mouths still only a breath apart.

“You say that at least once a day,” Wyatt replied, laughing, and he let Flynn kiss him until the water ran cold.

 

* * *

 

“Comfortable?” Lucy asked, triple-checking the handcuffs because she was paranoid that way. It was impossibly endearing.

“Yes,” Flynn assured her, because bringing up the fact that this was the tenth time she’d asked would only result in her doing something like walking out of the room and leaving him there for half an hour ‘if you’re so comfortable’.

This might have happened once or twice before.

Wyatt was out with some old buddies from the army and was going to be way too tired to be up to anything when he got back, so Flynn and Lucy had decided to have some fun in the meantime.

Hence Flynn now naked and in handcuffs with Lucy straddling him. Also naked.

Having finally checked everything out to her own satisfaction, Lucy bent down, bracing herself on his chest to kiss him. Flynn craned his head up, letting the smell and feel of her envelop him.

“Good,” Lucy murmured, kissing him a few more times, like she was just making sure. She brushed her nose behind his ear, kissing the soft skin there. “Stay quiet.”

That was generally the challenge. Flynn was always trying to get Lucy to make noise, while she was always trying to get him to be quiet.

Both of them were always trying to muffle Wyatt somehow.

Lucy kissed him again, hard, then gentle, before pulling away and starting to slowly kiss her way down his chest. He could so easily imagine that mouth wrapped around his dick, which swelled harder at the thought. Lucy felt it, clearly, because she smirked up at him.

“You like this idea?” she asked, planting a kiss right in the center of his chest.

Flynn stayed silent. He knew the deal.

Lucy’s smile grew. “Very good.”

She slowly continued downward, pausing to trace his muscles with her tongue, to bite lightly around a nipple, to suck a bruise into the thin skin covering his hipbone. Flynn tightened his grip around the bed rails, lips pressed tightly together, breathing hard through his nose. It was hard to swallow down every single sound that wanted to bubble up out of his chest, especially the urge to say her name, to praise her or egg her on.

But Lucy had said be quiet, and he knew she’d stop if he disobeyed, so quiet he stayed.

She drew her tongue up the inside of his thigh, biting lightly at a yellowing bruise there—one left by Wyatt if Flynn was remembering correctly. In the heat of the moment it was sometimes hard to remember who was kissing whom, who bit whom where, whose hand you were fucking, but Flynn did his best to keep track. He liked remembering where each and every mark had come from.

Flynn swallowed hard as Lucy nosed at the base of his cock, brushing gently, teasing. Wyatt was still in the whole ‘eager to please’ and ‘experimental’ stage, so he hadn’t really yet gotten a handle on things like patience and teasing when it came to cocksucking.

Having been doing it for quite a lot longer, Lucy had mastered both elements.

She carefully worked around his cock, waiting until it was jumping against her cheek, smearing her skin with a few pearly beads of white, that she turned her attention to it. Flynn bit hard on his tongue as she worked her tongue underneath the foreskin, teasing, working just the tip until Flynn thought he was going to bite right through the middle of his tongue and draw blood.

Lucy flicked her gaze up to him, her eyes dark, eating up every expression on his face. He didn’t know what he looked like in that moment but it obviously pleased Lucy because she made a happy little noise at the back of her throat and then worked his foreskin down, working him with her hand and her mouth simultaneously.

She licked one long stripe from base to tip, and Flynn’s hips jerked. He just managed to swallow down the grunt that threatened to spill out of his mouth. Fuck.

Lucy rocked back onto her heels, contemplating, looking him up and down. Then she patted his knee and crawled up, slinging a leg over so that she was straddling his shoulders.

She slid her hand through his hair, then cupped his cheek. Flynn could smell her arousal, curling sweet and thick through his nose, and he ached to taste her.

There were plenty of times where Lucy took control without a word, where he simply waited until she guided him somewhere, but right now, verbal instructions were needed.

“Keep going until I come,” Lucy said, her voice gentle but firm. “Get me wet and open for you, and if you’re good about it, I’ll fuck you afterward.”

Flynn’s entire body strained with the desire to do as she said, to make her scream. He nodded, showing he understood, that he agreed.

Lucy smiled beatifically down at him. God, she was beautiful. He could gaze at her for hours.

She shifted forward, situating herself, her hands moving to grip the rails of the bed so that she could raise and lower herself as needed. Flynn didn’t waste a second, sliding his tongue into her, tasting her, lapping up through her slick folds. Lucy trembled, already turned on—she’d had a hard time admitting, at first, how the power was like a rush to the head, how much she liked telling Flynn and Wyatt what to do, feeling that control, two powerful men bowing their heads, in her grasp. She still didn’t say it out loud, much, but it was written in the way she was already so wet, how her thighs trembled, the eager gleam in her eyes as she pushed herself into his mouth.

Flynn quickly lost himself in the smell and taste of her, the feel of her, the way she panted quietly up above him. He liked trying to make her scream, and he gave it his best shot now, teasing her, scraping his teeth along her inner thighs, avoiding her clit, humming against her skin. Lucy gasped, a small sound escaping.

Flynn couldn’t help his grin of triumph but kept teasing. He wasn’t going to really give her what she needed until she started asking for it. Lucy pretended annoyance, but she’d admitted once, almost shyly, while all three of them were discussing what they did and didn’t like, that she did in fact orgasm harder when she was teased first.

Lucy let out a little _ah_ noise, then hastily pressed her lips together. Flynn could hear the bed creak as she tightened her grip on the metal frame, feel her trembling as she struggled to hold in the other noises.

He ignored the little physical tells, the signs that she was losing control, until he felt one of her hands slide into his hair and tug his face away, pulling it back so that he could look up into her face.

“Stop teasing,” she ordered. Her chest was heaving and there were two spots of color high on her cheeks. He could hear the faint crack in her voice and knew it must be killing her to remember to order instead of pleading, and he gave her a small, reassuring smile to remind her that he didn’t care if she was saying _please_ or ordering him to double-time it.

He winked at her and her grip on his hair relaxed, allowing him to slide his tongue over her again. He didn’t tease this time, just went straight for it. Lucy keened above him, then clapped a hand over her mouth.

Flynn wanted to tell her to go ahead, be as loud as she wanted, but he was still supposed to be quiet and anyway he knew that would just earn him a glare. Lucy was a firm believer in not scarring their fellow bunker roommates. For some reason.

She shook above him, and he knew her thighs had to be burning with keeping herself upright when all her body wanted to do was collapse.

He hummed approvingly, knowing how she loved the vibrations, and it technically wasn’t speaking so he could get away with it. He scraped his teeth, lightly, just the once, his tongue curling up inside of her, and Lucy came with a shout that she muffled by biting into her hand.

That was going to leave some lovely bite marks, Flynn was certain.

He pulled away, feeling the mess on his chin, seeing it on her thighs, reveling in it. Lucy panted above him for a few moments, regaining her bearings. When her eyes opened, they looked black.

“Good,” she said. “Very good.”

She moved so that she could kiss him, licking the taste of herself off of him, rolling her hips all over his chest like she wanted to cover him in her, smear him, make it sink into his skin so that he was marked as hers always. Flynn was definitely a fan of the idea.

He kissed her until the shaking in her hands subsided and she was kissing back more firmly, taking control of it, dominating.

She pulled away, giving him a gleaming, wild grin. “I think you’ve earned your reward.”

Lucy moved back down, and fuck, Flynn wished he could touch her like this. But he’d settle for watching her as she positioned herself, lowering herself down inch by inch, slow and tortuous.

“You’re not going to come until I say so,” she reminded him, the muscles around her eyes fluttering as she fought not to close them.

Flynn nodded to show he understood.

Lucy began to move, up and down, swiveling her hips in that way that she knew drove Flynn nuts. He gritted his teeth, remembering, the combination of delayed gratification and doing what Lucy wanted making the pleasure inside of him spike. He was happy to be in control, enjoyed it, but there was something about pleasing Lucy and following her instructions that made everything inside of him go hot in the best way.

Lucy’s head fell back, her mouth open, her dark hair falling all around her as she worked herself on his cock, like it was a toy just for her pleasure. Flynn was pretty sure he was about to draw blood, he was biting down on the inside of his cheek so hard, and his muscles were all tight, clenched, holding on for dear life because if he relaxed for even a second he’d lose it.

“Mmm, ah, love you like this,” Lucy told him. “Just—all spread out for me, ‘s perfect.” She slid her hand down between her legs. He saw her rubbing her clit, and he nearly lost his damn mind.

“Do you want me to let you?” she asked, still touching herself, her voice coming out in pants. “Tell me—how much—you want to come.”

“More than anything,” Flynn replied, his voice hoarse like he’d been yelling, and in that moment, it was the truth. He couldn’t think of anything else that he wanted to do besides that.

“Why?” Lucy demanded.

He’d always been comfortable with dirty talk, much more so than Wyatt or Lucy. “Because I want to fill you up, give you another reminder that you’re mine, make you feel good, make you feel full the way that I know you love. You’re so greedy, taking me, taking Wyatt, sometimes I think you’d take both of us at once just to get that itch scratched, and I’m going to give it to you—I like giving it to you, I love watching you, you’re gorgeous like this, Lucy, please—” he was losing his train of thought, so close, teetering on the edge.

Lucy nodded. “Yes, go on then, you can.”

Flynn finally let himself move, thrusting up into her. Lucy nearly lost her balance for a second but regained it and gave him as good as she got, their bodies moving in counterpoint to one another. He didn’t have to, she’d said that he could come, but he waited until he saw her start to orgasm, her hand falling away, a sob escaping her.

Only then did he let himself go and give over to the roaring in his ears, in his blood. Fuck, it felt so good, everything in him going tight with pleasure, his world reduced to exquisite heat.

Lucy was very good about uncuffing him almost immediately, checking him over just in case. “What do you need? Water?”

“You need water too, you did a fair amount of work yourself,” Flynn pointed out.

She got them both water while Flynn stretched his arms, then a washcloth to clean them both up. She snuggled into his side. “What time is it?”

Flynn checked the clock. “Eleven.”

“He’ll be home soon then,” Lucy declared sleepily, resting her head on Flynn’s shoulder.

Flynn wrapped an arm around her, pulling up the blankets. So what if they were still nude? It would give Wyatt a pleasant surprise when he got back. “Yes, he will be.”

They were both out like lights by the time Wyatt slipped into bed half an hour later.


	3. Free Love

They were in 1969, Woodstock, enjoying the festival after successfully preventing Rittenhouse from convincing the local dairy farmer Max Yasgur to refuse to rent out his property to the festival committee.

Wyatt still wasn’t sure about the whole ‘arts influencing history’ thing, but then, apparently his loving country music was grounds for divorce or something if you asked Flynn and Lucy so he was just keeping his mouth shut and trying to avoid all the shirtless hippies.

He’d found himself a nice, quiet spot to sit, out on a picnic blanket someone had abandoned, just a little way away from the crowd, when Lucy stumbled over to him. She looked beautiful, he had to admit, her hair loose and curling around her shoulders, her thin cotton dress covered in a flower pattern.

“Wyatt,” she hissed, grinning like she had a big secret. She flopped down beside him. “Wyatt, Wyatt, Wyatt, guess what.”

“What?” he asked, taking in her glassy, glazed eyes and flushed cheeks. She’d had a couple of drinks, then.

“Flynn and I were talking, and—and we saw the video?” Lucy climbed up onto him so that she was straddling his lap, tugging lightly at his shirt collar. “Of you in the—raiding Rittenhouse, all by yourself, and we decided we want…” she giggled. “You’re so hot in your outfit, yeah? So, I mean, it’s kind of a complicated outfit so we don’t know yet how right but we totally want to fuck you in it.”

“Is that so.” Wyatt craned his neck around but didn’t see a sign of Flynn or Rufus anywhere. He settled his hands at Lucy’s hips to keep her from sliding off of him and collapsing.

Lucy nodded, very serious. “Yes. Because you’re really badass and really hot and you should be rewarded for that.”

“For being hot?”

“Yes.” Lucy beamed at him. “But it’s a secret okay? So don’t tell yourself.”

“I won’t,” Wyatt promised her, grinning in spite of himself. She was totally smashed. “How many drinks have you had, Luce?”

“Just one.” Lucy held up two fingers, looked at them, then used her other hand to put the extra finger down. “See? But I also ate—something. Really good. And now it’s just making me hot all over.”

Before he could stop her, she’d reached down and pulled her dress right up and over her head, tossing it aside.

Someday, Wyatt was going to stop being tongue tied when Lucy and/or Flynn got naked.

Today was not that day.

“Uh…” he said, very eloquently.

“Wyatt, Wyatt, Wyatt,” she repeated, running her hands through his hair. “You’re really pretty. Did you know that? Very pretty. My husband is pretty!” Lucy yelled this last part very loudly.

Wyatt clapped a hand over her mouth. “What the hell did you eat?”

Lucy thought about that for a moment. Then she took Wyatt’s hand and pulled it away from her mouth, licking at the tips of his fingers. “Brownies,” she said, right before she swallowed Wyatt’s fingers down.

“Whoa, okay,” Wyatt stammered, yanking his hand away and telling his erection that this was very much not the time, dammit. “I think it’s time we put you in the Lifeboat to sleep this off, huh?”

“No!” Lucy grabbed at his face, framing it with her hands. “No, I really, I really want to fuck you, is that okay? I mean I kind of want to all the time and also Flynn but don’t tell him that either because his ego is already too big, if it get any bigger we won’t have any room in the bunker, but especially right now I just…”

She moved her hands down to his belt and Wyatt quickly grabbed her wrists. “Lucy. We’re in public.”

Lucy looked around. Then looked back at him. Grinned. “I don’t think anyone cares. Except Flynn. Where is he?”

Yes, where was Flynn, because Wyatt could use some goddamn backup here.

“Wyatt, Wyatt, Wyatt,” Lucy repeated. She seemed to like chanting his name in a sing-song voice right now. She leaned in and started kissing up and down his neck. “Please? I promise I’ll be good.”

“It’s not you being good I’m worried about.” At this point in their relationship they kind of had an established ‘consent is assumed’ type deal, as most long-term relationships did, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t want explicit consent at times, and it didn’t mean that consent couldn’t be taken away when, say, one of them was just too tired for this shit, go to sleep, Lucy, we mean it, stop pouting. He didn’t want to just go with what a clearly drugged and high as a kite Lucy was saying and then find out when she was sober that she would have preferred he keep his hands to himself.

“Wyatt,” Lucy outright whined. She started grinding her hips down onto him, then smiled when she felt his damn traitorous dick sitting up and taking note. “Oh hey there soldier.”

“Lucy. You’re drugged. You’re on—what, weed? LSD?”

“I don’t know but man it makes colors pop,” Lucy informed him.

Where the fuck was Flynn? Wyatt looked around but nope, no sign of his goddamn husband. Great, the one time he needed to find him, and Flynn pulled a disappearing act.

“What’s wrong?” Lucy asked. She kissed him gently all over his face like drops of rain. “I’m not gonna be upset in the morning, I promise I promise I promise. I just feel everything so strongly right now, it’s all like it’s… I don’t know, fuzzy and sharp at the same time and I wanna feel sex like that too, I want to see what it’s like, Wyatt _please_?”

That final please broke him. He was probably going to get a huge fucking lecture—no pun intended—for this tomorrow morning but honestly he dared any other person on God’s green earth to deny Lucy Preston when she was literally, _literally_ writhing naked on his lap and begging for it.

“If you make me regret this—”

“You won’t!” Lucy said cheerfully, kissing him on the lips and undoing his belt. “I kind of already fingered myself behind one of the trees so you can just slide right in if you want.”

Wyatt choked on his own goddamn spit. “Jesus tap-dancing _Christ_.” Maybe this was all a sly plan to get him to have a heart attack and die and then she could collect his insurance money or something.

Lucy ground down onto his dick, whining high in the back of her throat with impatience. Wyatt obligingly took his shirt off so that she could roam her hands and mouth all over it, exploring happily like this was brand-new territory or something and not a body she’d marked and mapped out dozens of times already.

Which… honestly was kind of flattering. Wyatt knew he wasn’t really as adventurous in the sex department as Lucy or Flynn. Hell, Lucy liked to be called a slut and Flynn liked to be handcuffed (or to handcuff someone else). Sometimes he worried he was a little too… vanilla. Boring.

But Lucy was kissing him now like there was absolutely no place she’d rather be, her hands sliding over his skin like she just wanted to feel him, touch him for hours. Wyatt couldn’t help but touch her back, move his hands to her back to anchor her and keep her close to him.

“Want you so bad,” Lucy admitted, not even letting him dislodge her to get his pants fully off—she just pulled his dick out and gave it a few strokes before, as she’d promised, starting to sink down. “Always want you, you know that, right?”

She’d said it just a few minutes before but it sounded so much more serious now, with her voice soft and low and wondrous, her lips brushing against his. She sank down another couple inches and Wyatt dug his hands into her hips, trying desperately not to thrust up into her. He wasn’t as long as Flynn, but he was thicker, and Lucy was notoriously impatient about getting herself fingered open. He wasn’t going to hurt her just because drugs had made her think her body was looser and readier than it actually was.

He focused on breathing, waiting as Lucy sank lower and lower, content to kiss him as she did so. “Everything’s fuzzy except you, does that make sense?” she asked. “The world’s all sleepy, but you’re wide awake.”

“Mmkay, Luce, whatever you say,” he replied, mumbling the words against her mouth right before she kissed him again.

She started moving, then, slow and steady for the first few moments but then quickly picking up speed, riding him desperately, like they were running out of time. Lucy was making little _ah, ah, ah_ noises in the back of her throat and definitely not trying to keep quiet, which, usually he was the one getting noisy and Lucy was the one shushing him, but now he found himself kissing her just to stop her from getting too loud and alerting everyone as to what they were doing just twenty yards away from the crowd.

“Wyatt, Wyatt, Wyatt,” she chanted, same as earlier, clawing at the back of his shoulders. He gave as good as he could, but she was doing most of the work in this position, basically using him, and Wyatt was kind of happy to let her take the lead on this—as he was on their missions, in life, in everything—and roll her hips and do whatever it took to get her there. He was definitely going to have no problem getting there himself, Lucy’s kisses, fast pace, and tight heat as always driving him nearly out of his head with arousal.

Lucy gave a desperate cry and literally shoved herself down onto his cock a final time, shuddering out her orgasm. Wyatt kissed her, trying to silence her, but it was way too late and at least one person had to have heard that—but then she was clenching around him and he was coming and everything, the festival, all of it was just white noise.

It took him a moment of panting, coming down from the high, to realize that Lucy wasn’t just slumped against him because she was catching her breath.

She was asleep.

Wyatt couldn’t help it, he had to laugh. And he thought the guy was the one who was supposed to finish first and then pass out?

He carefully leaned to the side, grabbing her discarded dress with his fingertips while he kept his arm anchored around her back to prevent her from falling. She woke up a little as he worked the dress back onto her, but was clearly disoriented and a simple “Shh, honey, go back to sleep” was enough to calm her.

“There you are,” Flynn said, walking up. “I’ve been looking for her everywhere, she slipped away during—” he paused, taking in the scene. “Did you two just?”

“She took something,” Wyatt said, indicating for Flynn to pick her up. “Made her horny and high as fuck.”

Flynn picked Lucy up, her head on his shoulder, and Wyatt got to his feet, quickly tucking himself away. Flynn smirked. “And here you said you weren’t enjoying yourself.”

“Oh, shut up, or I won’t blow you when we get home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't know why but I love writing drunk/high Lucy, she cracks me the fuck up.


	4. Connected

Lucy couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began, and that was how she wanted it.

They’d had a bad day. Flynn had nearly gotten shot, they hadn’t been able to figure out the sleeper agent until it was almost too late, Wyatt had fallen off the roof, and she’d once again been grabbed and held with a gun to her head.

She didn’t know which part of the day had been worse: nearly failing, nearly losing Flynn, the frantic few moments of Wyatt falling before she realized he’d landed safely in a dumpster… or Flynn and Wyatt’s faces, the utter devastation and fear, when she’d had a gun to her head.

“It’s okay,” she’d told them. “Do it, do it, it’s okay.”

She didn’t feel fear for herself. She had sort of transcended that. She understood now how Flynn had been able to steal a time machine and kill people in order to save his family. Her desire to end Rittenhouse felt like a fire in the pit of her stomach or a disease, a cancer that slowly ate her insides. She wanted them destroyed, and if that meant she died in the process, so be it.

But the looks on their faces… she wanted to erase them, permanently. She never wanted to be the reason either of her boys looked like that.

Now they were back home, back safe, locked down tight in their sardine can, the bedroom door locked for extra measure. Now they could run their hands all over each other, kiss, cry out, remind each other that they were real, they were okay, they’d made it this time.

This time.

She was straddling Wyatt’s lap, one arm wrapped around his shoulders as he thrust inside of her. Flynn was behind her, fucking between her thighs from behind, his arms tangled with Wyatt’s as they held her, held each other. She wasn’t sure who she was kissing anymore, whose arm was where, who was thrusting where. It was a glorious mess and she didn’t care because she could feel both of them all over and that was how she wanted it. She’d almost lost one or both of them today and they’d almost lost her, and she didn’t want a single inch of space between any of them.

None of them were speaking actual words. She actually didn’t think any of them had said anything after they’d reported to Denise. Instead they’d just gone back to the bedroom and attacked each other. Wyatt had runs his hands over Flynn’s chest, as if double checking the bullet had actually missed him, kissing him like he’d suffocate Flynn with it and kill him that way if Flynn was so determined to keep putting himself in danger. She’d gotten on her knees, swallowed Wyatt down, watched his face, letting his wide-eyed arousal replace the wide-eyed flash of fear she’d seen right before he’d tumbled over the side of the building. Flynn had sucked a hard bruise into her neck, right where the Rittenhouse agent had his hand around her throat, his hands squeezing just as tightly but in love, not hate.

Flynn and Wyatt were kissing now, and she tipped her head back, rolling her hips, wishing her body was able to take the both of them inside of her at once, connecting them even further. She could feel salt on her lips, wetness on her face, and she didn’t know if it was her tears or theirs or both.

Someday their luck was going to run out. They’d bested Rittenhouse and time itself, had survived messed-up timelines, found their way back to one another each time, but surely that couldn’t last forever. Surely at some point, the sand in the hourglass would empty.

Until then she ran her hands all over them, squeezing Wyatt’s arms and seizing Flynn by the back of the neck to drag him down for a kiss. She put her mouth all over, everywhere, let them do the same, felt the way their skin slid against each other, slick with sweat, felt the way Flynn slid between her thighs, the way Wyatt filled her, focused on the pleasure until the feel of them was all that she knew.

They weren’t fast—sometimes they were, this position was for when they were frantic, for when they wanted it to be ridiculous and messy and couldn’t put in the time or energy for it to be coordinated. Sometimes they were all moving as hard and fast as they could, biting at one another, screams tearing themselves out of her throat as she felt the both of them, making her feel like she was going to combust with pleasure.

But right now, it was slow, deep, like moving too fast would tear something, strain the bubble they had wrapped themselves in. Wyatt buried his face in her shoulder and thrust hard but rhythmically, while Flynn squeezed her breasts and kept his pace tortuously slow despite her whimpers.

A part of her never wanted it to end. She never wanted to stop being filled, being touched, the three of them no longer individuals but one whole, one interconnected creature made up of their fears and loves and hopes.

She wasn’t sure who came first—it felt like dominos falling, one of them after the other, triggering each other. She sobbed, grateful for the mess of it, wanting to be stained with them, tattooed by them, wanted to never let go ever again.

They kept kissing, hands exploring, breaths shaky and shuddering. Wyatt’s eyes were rimmed red and she could feel the way Flynn’s chest would freeze and then heave, the way it did when he was struggling to control his breathing. She gave a hysterical little giggle, wiping at her face, letting both men pull her hands away and kiss the tears off her cheeks.

She kissed Wyatt, she kissed Flynn, they kissed each other, the sentiment shoved into each other’s mouths even if it wasn’t said aloud. _I love you_ sounded too much like _goodbye_ in cases like these. Better to keep it silent.

They kind of sank into the bed together, legs and arms all wrapped around one another, her head tucked under Wyatt’s chin, Flynn plastered to her back, a living, breathing cage that she never wanted to escape.

It felt like she couldn’t quite catch her breath. To lose one of them would be like losing herself. It never felt more real than in these moments when they were as tangled up as human beings could get, when it felt like she was less Lucy and more a part of Wyatt and Flynn, like she was merely a manifestation of the love they gave her—like she did not exist without their love.

 _Tomorrow will be better_ , she told herself. They’d have breakfast, Wyatt and Flynn would snark at each other, Flynn would give her a kiss with her morning coffee, Wyatt would wrap his arms around her from behind and let her lean back into him as she ate, they’d goof off with Rufus and Jiya, they’d be scolded by Denise.

It would all be better.

But right now it was still purging that sick fear she’d been living with all day. Right now she had a drying white mess all over her thighs and her stomach, sweat sticking to her, making her hair messy and limp, dried tears all over her face, bruises on her shoulders and neck and breasts, and she relished it, wanted all of it, wanted to never wash any of it off. Wanted to stink with their love.

Right now, she couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the others began, or vice versa.

And that was how it should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *examines chapter* Who got feelings all up in my porn?


	5. Dirty Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special little dedication to acheaptrickandacheesyoneline, who mentioned wanting this.

Wyatt had found himself in more than a few compromising situations in his life.

Most of them, ironically, had involved Lucy. The car trunk, Hedy Lamar’s house, the time she literally stripped and fucked him in public at Woodstock.

This time, though, Lucy was doing some computer history programming thing with Jiya, and Flynn was the one causing the, uh, compromising.

If somebody came around the corner, they were screwed, and not in the fun way.

It really, really didn’t help that Flynn seemed incapable of shutting up, hadn’t shut up all day, leaning in to drip filth into Wyatt’s ear until Wyatt’s entire body burned with it.

“I want to put my mouth all over you,” he whispered at breakfast, right as Wyatt was taking a sip of coffee and causing Wyatt to nearly choke on his drink.

“I keep remembering how you felt underneath me last night,” was what he said at lunch, making Wyatt blush like a goddamn fire hydrant.

And then, when Wyatt was getting a glass of water later on, Flynn had leaned in and said, “I want to swallow you like that.”

Wyatt nearly spewed the water in a literal spit take. By the time he’d composed himself enough to whip around and glare at Flynn, the asshole was on the other side of the room, very innocently sitting and listening to Lucy wax poetic about Mary Pickford.

The final straw came when he was sitting at the table writing a report on their last mission—because apparently that was something they had to do now for the records which made no sense since they were off the grid and technically didn’t exist but anyway—and Flynn leaned over his shoulder, fucking ran his lips over the curve of Wyatt’s ear, and told him, “I think tonight I’m going to fuck you open until you can’t even speak to beg.”

That. That was it. That was fucking _it_. He just had to stand up and growl, “Follow me,” hoping nobody noticed (probably everyone noticed) and that if someone had they put it down to anger (which it was, dammit, just anger and… other things) and leading Flynn down the twisting hallways of this damn bunker until he could grab Flynn and demand that he please _cut it out and shut the fuck up._

Flynn’s response had been, “But you don’t want me to shut up,” hence Wyatt’s current compromising position of being pinned to the wall while Flynn kissed the ever-loving fuck out of him and Wyatt rode Flynn’s thigh like he was being fucking paid for it.

“You’re so pretty like this,” Flynn mused, pulling away from Wyatt’s mouth so that he could turn his head and scrape his teeth along Wyatt’s jaw.

Wyatt was going to protest that he wasn’t _pretty_ , no matter what Lucy and Flynn said, but then Flynn kept. Fucking. Talking.

“I could keep you like this all day, couldn’t I?” Flynn asked. Wyatt was really, really regretting ever admitting that he liked it when Flynn talked during sex. “It’s not enough for you to get off, really, is it, you need me to give you a little more don’t you, need me to fill you up the way that you like.”

Wyatt clamped down on the whine that threatened to emerge from the back of his throat and dug his fingers into Flynn’s hair, trying to drag his face back up so he could kiss him and prevent any more of those awful, wonderful words from falling out.

Flynn resisted, though, his hands going down in between them to undo their pants. “Don’t worry, I know what you want. I know exactly what you want, because you’re so eager to please, aren’t you, Wyatt? You like it when we tell you what to do, you like when somebody’s in charge, telling you to spread your legs and fucking take it.”

Wyatt tried to glare at him but that was a little hard to do when everything Flynn was saying made him, yes, all right, want to spread his legs and fucking beg for it.

Flynn slid his hand into Wyatt’s open pants, cupping him, forcing Wyatt to bite down hard on Flynn’s shoulder to stifle the noises spilling out of him. “Someday we’re going to get you somewhere you don’t have to be quiet, somewhere you can say all the things you want, beg all you want, and we’re both going to take you apart. We won’t have to clean up, won’t have to rush, we can just spread you out and take all the time it the world making you fall to pieces. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, us marking you up, getting you all messy, making you scream?”

Wyatt had a really smart remark, he did, but it kind of got lost in the helpless choking noise that emerged from the back of his throat.

Flynn just chuckled, kissing him again as he let Wyatt rut into his hand.

Anyone else, anyone in this entire world who tried to put him in this position, Wyatt would deck them (except Lucy, of course, but then Lucy would do it differently, with sweet soft words and pliant kisses and painted red nails). But for Flynn he’d bare his throat and whine and beg and show all the things he’d be ashamed and angered to show anyone else.

“Look at you,” Flynn murmured, running his mouth up the side of Wyatt’s neck, his breath hot and curling around Wyatt’s skin. “You know what it does to me, right? What it does to Lucy? Knowing you let us do this to you? You’d kill anyone else who tried, don’t think I don’t know that. And here you are begging me to take care of you.” He pressed a kiss to just underneath Wyatt’s jaw. “Want me to mess you up? Like a goddamn teenager, make it so you have to change, knowing you couldn’t wait another second, couldn’t wait until tonight, you wanted me to mess you up…”

Wyatt dug into Flynn’s back with his fingers, arched his hips, not caring at this point that Flynn totally had the upper hand, that he was right, Wyatt was a goddamn mess and he wanted Flynn to take him apart.

“Go on,” Flynn told him, and fuck, he was never going to admit it out loud, but it was ten times better when Flynn talked. “I want to see you, get you good and relaxed for later, when we’re going to give it to you, going to make you beg for it, take the edge off now so we can take our sweet time with you later, fuck you until you forget what your own name is.”

Fuck, _fuck_ , Wyatt was just clinging to Flynn now, riding his hand, drowning in the goddamn sensations and Flynn’s filthy words. He wanted that, he wanted that so badly, wanted Flynn’s promises to become real, for Flynn and Lucy to tell him what to do and kiss him and fuck him into incoherence.

“That’s it,” Flynn growled, sliding his free hand behind Wyatt’s head, tucking Wyatt’s face into his neck so that Wyatt could bite down and muffle the noises spilling out of him. “Let go, _Liebling_ , show me how much you want it, give it to me, make a goddamn mess of yourself—”

Wyatt jerked, feeling himself spilling over, biting down hard enough on Flynn’s neck that he was surprised he didn’t break the skin, whimpering as his knees buckled and he struggled to catch his breath.

“You’re making good on every single bit of that,” Wyatt panted.

“Wouldn’t dream of having it any other way,” Flynn assured him, kissing him and, finally, shutting up.


	6. Taken Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the ‘later’ mentioned at the end of the previous chapter and requested by LivingInSmilesIsBetter (axm).

Wyatt would have thought that already getting one orgasm that day would’ve made him more patient later on.

Nope.

After Flynn was… polite enough, as one might say, to get him off in the hallway, the rest of the day had actually been normal. Or, well, as normal as it could get when they were hiding out in an underground bunker in the middle of nowhere waiting for an opportunity to jump back through time.

They pinpointed likely places where Rittenhouse would put sleeper agents, Jiya continued to try to work on hacking into the Mothership, Rufus and Mason and Flynn got into a massive argument over whether or not they should steal another nuclear power core for the Lifeboat, Lucy managed to spectacularly burn a box of mac n’ cheese, and Wyatt and Rufus pestered Denise until she ordered them all pizza.

Pizza delivered courtesy of a SWAT team. Truly, living the dream.

But then it was time for bed. Nothing more could be done that night. Jiya looked wiped. Mason had that gleam in his eye that meant he was staying up all night to work on… something.

And Lucy and Flynn were giving Wyatt some very, very specific and devious looks.

“…what,” he said, even though he probably should’ve known it would be useless to ask.

“What?” Lucy replied, very sweetly, putting her hands on his chest and kissing him softly.

Wyatt pointed at where Flynn was locking the bedroom door. Flynn had been the one who, one day, had just thrown his hands in the air, grabbed a bunch of tools, and put locks on everyone’s doors—including the bathroom so that ‘ridiculous chair method’ could be done away with.

“Don’t think I don’t see that.”

“See what?” Lucy teased, kissing him again. His hands settled at her hips automatically, squeezing gently. He was willing to admit that he was a massive pushover where Lucy was concerned. She hummed as she kissed him and Wyatt pretended not to notice that she was carefully backing him towards the bed. “We were just thinking…”

“There it is,” Wyatt said, pulling away to playfully glare at her.

Lucy pouted. “We were just thinking, that since you and Flynn already had a little thing in the hallway…”

Wyatt glared at Flynn, who shrugged as if to say, _of course I told her every detail, did you expect anything less?_

“…we could take our time with you tonight?” Lucy finished, her eyes sparkling hopefully.

She looped her arms around his neck, gently brushing her mouth all over his neck. “Please?” she asked again. “You know you love it.”

He did love it, that was true, even if it completely exhausted him and rendered him pretty useless for the next few hours.

And they hadn’t really had time for anything much lately. His tryst with Flynn in the hallway earlier was the way they’d all had to do things lately, snatching what time they could in the shower or quickly in bed in the mornings or just before they went to sleep. They were running themselves ragged with Rittenhouse and Wyatt could barely remember the last time they’d been able to go slow, take their time with each other.

There were also all of those promises that Flynn had whispered in his ear…

Wyatt kissed Lucy again, properly this time, slow and deep so that she could feel the intent behind it. “Okay,” he agreed.

“Okay?” Lucy prompted.

“Yes,” Wyatt confirmed.

Lucy was very big on the whole ‘let there be no confusion about consent’ thing. Which was adorable, even if she sometimes went a little overboard.

Wyatt held his hand out blindly, knowing that after all this time Flynn would recognize the gesture.

Sure enough, he felt a large rough hand in his and turned, unsure whether it was him pulling Flynn in or Flynn pulling him in and not really caring since it got one of Flynn’s arms firmly around his waist and Flynn’s mouth on his.

He felt Lucy brush by him, and then heard the rustling of fabric, the distinct soft sound of clothing hitting the concrete bunker floor.

Slim hands slid up underneath his shirt from behind, pushing it up until Wyatt obediently raised his arms so it could be taken off. Flynn pulled back long enough for the fabric to get out of the way but then kissed him again immediately. The hands—Lucy’s hands—came back, sliding around to undo his pants, carefully avoiding touching his slowly-stiffening cock.

Wyatt whined a little in the back of his throat. Flynn chuckled, the sound vibrating against his lips. “Impatient already?”

Wyatt bit his lip in retaliation. He felt Lucy press a kiss to his shoulder blade, her warm arms wrapping around him from behind.

“Remember the safe word?” she asked.

Since she was standing behind and wasn’t tall enough to see him, Wyatt rolled his eyes at Flynn. Flynn gave him a _be nice_ look.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

Personally, he thought choosing ‘Hindenburg’ was a bit of a bad joke but Flynn had laughed his ass off when they’d chosen it so that made it worth it.

He could feel Lucy sucking in a deep breath and he turned, cupping her cheek in his hand. “Luce. I love you. But if you list all the terms and conditions I will not be responsible for my actions.”

Lucy stuck her tongue out at him, and he grinned helplessly back at her. He sucked in a breath as he felt Flynn’s fingers trail lightly down his chest, stopping at his hipbone. So close, and yet so far from where he wanted to be touched.

He remembered Flynn’s promise from earlier, the one that he saw shining out of Lucy’s eyes now:

_We’re going to take you apart._

Wyatt shivered. God, he wanted that.

“C’mere,” Lucy said, letting him turn the rest of the way around and pushing him back towards the bed while Flynn stripped down. Undressing each other could be sexy but it also led to tangled limbs and was really, really inefficient.

Wyatt sat down on the bed, letting Lucy climb up into his lap and kiss him until he was dizzy. A naked, gorgeous, squirming Lucy in his lap was not exactly conducive to keeping him from blowing his load but he tried to distract himself. He knew the rules of this particular game: no orgasm until he was given permission.

He heard the bed creak behind him and felt Flynn’s large hands slide from his shoulders down to his wrists, pulling his hands off Lucy and placing them on the bed. Flynn squeezed gently—a sign for Wyatt to keep his hands where they were.

Wyatt broke away from his kiss with Lucy, turning to nod as Flynn ducked his head around to kiss him.

Lucy started to kiss her way down his chest, her nails scraping lightly, making him shiver. By now she was pretty much an expert in all the things that drove Wyatt insane, just as he liked to think he’d gotten pretty damn good at knowing what made her scream. She licked at his nipples and bit lightly at the muscles of his stomach, his moans caught up by Flynn as he kissed him.

Wyatt’s hips bucked up instinctively, trying to get Lucy’s mouth closer to where he wanted it, but she ignored him, working her way back up to suck at his neck instead. He couldn’t help his whine but managed to keep his hips still and was rewarded with Flynn murmuring “very good” into his mouth, making Wyatt shiver.

A part of him kind of hated that he liked praise. It made him feel… stupid. Like he was easily controlled or manipulated. Like he was some kind of pet. But Lucy said it so earnestly, like she was genuinely so pleased and surprised that he did as he was told, and Flynn said it with such heat, like watching Wyatt obey orders turned him on to no end, that Wyatt couldn’t find it in himself to let his shame overtake him. Feeling shame was ridiculous, anyway. They were in a bunker where literally nobody knew about them and nobody cared. Who was there to shame them?

Lucy and Flynn both pulled back as if by silent mutual agreement. Wyatt groaned as they pulled away.

“Quiet,” Lucy ordered softly. “Up on the bed, hands on the rail.”

Wyatt wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, but something in her voice was different when she was giving orders in the bedroom as opposed to during a mission. There was something so soft in her voice now, so inviting, he just wanted to curl up in that sound and stay there.

He moved back so that he was stretched out properly on the bed, bringing his hands up to grip the rails. He tightened his grip so that they could see that he was obeying. He wasn’t a huge fan of being restrained, not like Flynn or Lucy, so they relied on him to follow their orders to the letter instead.

Say whatever jokes about the army that you wanted, but he really, really did like following orders.

Lucy smoothed her hands over his arms, his chest, as if checking that everything was in working order. She smiled at him, half encouragement, half pride, and then murmured, “If you say anything, I’ll stop. If your hands leave the rails, I’ll stop. Understood?”

Wyatt nodded.

Lucy repositioned herself so that she was between his legs. Flynn was behind her, and he swept some of her dark hair out of the way to softly kiss her neck. Wyatt had to bite the inside of his cheek hard at the sight. Lucy let herself fall back against Flynn’s chest, her head on his shoulder, let his hands roam over her and his mouth drag across her skin.

Then she gently but firmly shifted forward, bracing her hands on either side of Wyatt’s hips. She gave him a saucy look, one eyebrow raised, and then lowered her head until her mouth was hovering just over Wyatt’s cock. She gently ran her lips over the length of it, a barely-there touch, and he couldn’t help but shiver at the warmth of her breath, the tease of it.

Flynn shifted, moving so that he was lying on his side, propped up on his elbow. His free hand ran over Wyatt’s body, tracing lightly with the tips of his fingers, his dark eyes taking it all in.

Lucy sucked him into her mouth, sliding her tongue underneath the crown, swallowing the bit of precome that leaked out of him. She sucked gently, teasing him, not giving him the full suction he needed, just keeping it light like she was taking her time.

Actually, that was exactly what she was doing.

Flynn just watched for a minute—which was something they’d all quickly picked up on about themselves and one another. They all got off on watching each other.

After a minute though, he wasn’t content with just sitting there—he never was—and he threaded his fingers through Wyatt’s hair, tugging lightly to angle Wyatt’s head up to kiss him. Wyatt flexed his thighs, trying not to thrust up into Lucy’s mouth, trying to just focus on the way Flynn kissed him and not lose it all when they’d just gotten started.

Lucy pulled back, tonguing his slit, and Wyatt bit down hard on Flynn’s lip to keep from making a noise. He could feel his legs shaking as he desperately tried to reign in his impulses.

“Good,” Flynn murmured against his mouth. He kissed Wyatt hard, bruising, as Lucy did it again, suppressing any noises that Wyatt might otherwise have made.

Wyatt’s held fell back as he panted, his chest heaving. He wanted to scream, to beg Lucy to get on with it, but he wasn’t going to go against her orders.

Then she sank down farther.

Wyatt squeezed his throat down tight around the noise that threatened to spill out. Lucy was keeping her lips lightly pursed, not going as fast or as tight as she could, still drawing it out. Wyatt could feel the strain in his legs, the clench of his stomach, the way his shoulders were tensing up from his hands gripping the rails.

“Lucy,” Flynn said, warningly.

This was why there were two of them—there was always one to watch, warn the other when Wyatt was about to be pushed beyond his self-control.

Lucy pulled off, her hands coming up to soothingly rub up and down Wyatt’s thighs. “Good job,” she told him. “You’re doing really well, Wyatt.”

Flynn leaned down, pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. “You’re beautiful like this.”

Wyatt would’ve rolled his eyes at him, but he was a little busy trying to remember how to breathe.

Lucy kept talking to him, her voice soothing, Flynn keeping a hand on his chest to ground him, kissing him every so often. Eventually, Wyatt felt himself start to calm down. His thighs stopped shaking and he could relax his grip just a bit on the rails.

“You okay?” Flynn asked after a few minutes. “Still good?”

Wyatt nodded.

“Remember, no talking,” Lucy told him, and then she sank down again, this time licking all over, sucking at the base of the shaft, being delightfully messy with it.

Wyatt swallowed hard, biting down on the inside of his cheek. Flynn gave him a wicked grin and then bent down to whisper, “I can’t wait until you start begging.”

Then he began moving his mouth over Wyatt’s neck, kissing and sucking, biting occasionally, his fingers tweaking one of Wyatt’s nipples and making his entire body jerk. He felt like he was going to draw blood from how hard he was biting his cheek and he couldn’t control the way his body was shaking, unable to fully process all that he was being assaulted with.

Flynn pulled back, admiring a large bruise he’d made on Wyatt’s shoulder, then flicked his gaze up to look at Wyatt. “Lucy,” he warned again.

Lucy pulled off, panting a little. “Thanks,” she told Flynn. Then she grinned, crawled up Wyatt’s body, and kissed him.

Wyatt could taste himself on her and tried not to groan. Lucy pulled back. “I think we’ll let Flynn have you now,” she whispered, flicking her gaze over to Flynn before looking back at Wyatt and smiling deviously.

Flynn kissed Lucy on the cheek and then moved so that they could essentially switch positions. Lucy could have just kept straddling Wyatt’s chest, she was certainly small enough to do it without getting in Flynn’s way, but that would’ve blocked Flynn’s view of Wyatt’s face.

“You can talk now,” Lucy told him. She petted his chest, his hair, soothing him once again. Wyatt’s heartbeat was thundering, like it was going to burst out of him. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart, so well. You good?”

“Yes,” Wyatt told her, his voice already hoarse just from all the sounds he’d been keeping back.

Lucy beamed at him, carding her hand through his hair. “Good boy.”

Wyatt hadn’t heard it because this was the part where his senses started to go a little wacky but he knew—trusted—that Flynn was grabbing the lube at this point. It was confirmed when he felt a large hand gently parting his legs further, and then a slick finger rubbed at his entrance.

Wyatt couldn’t hold in his gasp, and Lucy gave him a pleased smile, her hand sliding down his chest to rest low on his stomach. “You’re doing so well,” she told him. This was the part Lucy was good at—sweet talking him. “Just keep hanging in there. You’re so sexy like this.”

Every few words she’d punctuate with a kiss, balancing out the fire he felt building low in his gut as Flynn slowly worked a finger inside of him, just the one, teasing just as Lucy had. Wyatt tightened around him instinctively and had to focus back on Lucy’s words, her soft tone of voice, to relax again.

He started to lose track of time. Lucy kept talking to him, kissing him all over, petting him, as Flynn worked him open, added a second finger—then ducked down and began to suck him off again while he kept at it, added a third finger. Wyatt groaned, knew he was making other noises, but couldn’t be bothered to care what they were.

It felt like he wasn’t human anymore, just a wire filled with electricity, always one breath away from short-circuiting and exploding. Flynn knew his body well by now, knew exactly where his prostrate was, and when he hit it Wyatt’s entire body jerked like he’d been shot—which he knew from personal experience, thanks. He didn’t know which was going to kill him first, Flynn sucking on his dick, Flynn’s fingers inside of him, Lucy’s hands on him or her honey sweet voice.

Wyatt could feel his body tensing up, could feel himself sliding closer to the edge against his will, but at that moment Flynn stilled, pulling off to look up at Lucy expectantly.

Lucy cupped his face gently in her hands. “You’re doing beautifully, sweetheart,” she told him. “Just a little bit longer, okay?”

She waited, as she always did. Wyatt tried to get his bearings back enough to nod. “Yes,” he croaked out. He wanted more, he knew he could go further. He hadn’t, not at first. This would have been as far as he could’ve gotten before losing it, but now he could hold out longer.

Lucy brushed their noses together. “Good.”

Flynn slid his fingers out, shifting so that he was now kneeling between Wyatt’s legs, spreading them and hooking them over Flynn’s shoulders. “God, I could keep you like this for hours,” he mused.

Wyatt was well aware of that. He secretly wished his body would hold out for that long, everything in him wanting to please.

Lucy seemed to read his mind because she laughed, nuzzling into him. “Maybe someday,” she said, although Wyatt wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or Flynn or both.

They waited again until Wyatt relaxed, and then Flynn slowly entered him. He sank in inch by inch, keeping it slow, talking to Wyatt the whole time—and this was the hard part, when Flynn talked, told him how he loved all the bite marks and bruises Wyatt was littered with now, wished they could go back in time to a period where Wyatt didn’t have to wear a suit so that everyone could see the marks and know who he belonged to, but that was okay, because it was all hidden underneath those nice outfits, wasn’t it, all the things that Wyatt let them do to him, filthy on the inside, and someday they were going to have to do this right before a mission and not clean him up afterwards, so he’d have to go with those marks, the sweat, the smears of white on the inside of his thighs and on his stomach, staining him, and nobody would know except for the three of them…

Wyatt made a strangled noise at the back of his throat. Flynn was fully seated inside of him now, and Wyatt swore he could feel him at the back of his goddamn throat. Flynn’s gazed flicked over to Lucy for confirmation.

Lucy nodded, her hand steadily rubbing at Wyatt’s stomach, keeping him grounded.

Flynn started to move, slower at first, and Wyatt let out a keening sound from the back of his throat. Lucy’s hand pressed down a little harder and Wyatt imagined she could feel Flynn moving inside of him and lost his mind a little bit, letting out a helpless moan.

Lucy moved back up so she could whisper in his ear. “Beg, sweetheart, you know he loves to hear you beg. Go on then. Tell him what you want.”

Wyatt wasn’t sure he was capable of forming words just then but he tried. The first time his throat was too dry, but after a couple of swallows he was able to say, “Please.”

“Please what?” Lucy prompted.

“Please, fuck—” And now that he was speaking it was like he couldn’t stop, words just spilling out of him. “Fuck, God, Flynn, please, c’mon, I want, I want you to come inside me, mess me up like you fucking promised, please, please, Garcia, fuck, Garcia—”

His brain tended to seize on just one word in these moments, as he felt spread out too thin, everything in him shuddering and shaking. This time it was Garcia, Flynn’s name, the name they still only called him in private moments, _Garcia, Garcia, Garcia…_

Lucy was holding him, anchoring him, keeping him from completely floating away. When the pitch of his cries grew desperate she would wrap her hand around the base of his cock and squeeze, holding him back, helping him out. He was crying, or maybe that was just sweat, he wasn’t sure, his face was wet and God it all felt so good, almost too good, Flynn stretching him full and hitting that spot inside of him that was making it feel like he was electrocuted only in a very, very, very good way.

“Go on, Garcia,” he heard Lucy say, her voice dim beneath the roaring of the blood in his ears, and he felt Flynn moving faster, starting to lose his rhythm a little.

Wyatt recognized the stutter in his hips and moaned, mouth falling open, chanting, “Do it, do it, fucking do it please—”

He felt Flynn start to come inside him, shuddered with it, then felt Flynn pull out, felt it splash up onto his thighs and stomach, marking him, and Wyatt groaned at the sensation, feeling filthy and used and fan-fucking-tastic.

Also felt like he might be teetering on the brink of insanity with the need to come but, you know. Semantics.

He heard a noise and turned his head, blinking the tears out of his eyes, to see Lucy fingering herself, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She made a tiny gasp of loss as she drew her fingers out, but then she was climbing over to Wyatt, swinging her leg over him, hovering just an inch away from where he wanted her to be.

Flynn placed his hands on her shoulders, kissing her temple, a mirror of how they’d been earlier. “You ready?” Lucy asked.

Wyatt was pretty sure his brains were leaking out of his ears but he managed to nod.

Lucy smiled at him, soft and fast like quicksilver, and then she was sinking onto him.

Wyatt made a noise where he honestly couldn’t tell if it was pleasure or pain—probably both—his body going cold and then hot with the sensation of being inside of her.

“Go on,” Flynn told him, helping Lucy to start up a rhythm. “We want to see you lose it, Wyatt, go on, fuck her like you mean it, I want to see you lose your mind, see if you can make her scream…”

Wyatt couldn’t have held still if he wanted to at this point. His hips snapped up again and again, rough and uncoordinated, unable to even manage to scream, desperate little _uh uh uh_ noises coming out of the back of his throat.

He couldn’t come, he couldn’t, not until Lucy said but he was so close, fuck, fuck he was so close, he wanted to so badly but he couldn’t ask he had to wait he had to wait he had to wait…

Lucy made happy little gasping noises as he fucked up into her, Flynn touching her from behind, rubbing her clit and her breasts, kissing her. “Wyatt,” she gasped, the word ending in a whine. “Go on, go on, you can—show me, show me how much you love it, come for me.”

Wyatt’s world went white.

It almost hurt with how overpowering it was. He could feel his body thrashing, wild, uncontrollable, felt like his very essence of being was being emptied, his ears roaring and tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes, unable to breathe, fire and ice and crackling lightning filling him up and rushing out of him over and over again.

He came back to himself minutes, hours, who knew, later. His chest was heaving, and he was gasping. Lucy was carefully unwrapping his hands from around the rail, massaging them to get the feeling back into them. He heard movement and saw Flynn returning to the bed, bottles of water tucked between his arm and chest.

Flynn passed one to Lucy and set the other two on the nightstand. He then helped to prop Wyatt up, maneuvering until he was sitting and Wyatt was leaning back into his chest.

“Drink this,” Lucy said, uncapping the bottle and bringing it to his lips.

Wyatt drank obediently. His entire body felt like it was made of lead and it was hard to keep his eyes open. He felt beyond exhausted but in the best way. Also, touch. He wanted skin, wanted warmth, wanted to be touched everywhere.

Lucy kept him at it until he’d drank the entire bottle. “Shower?” she asked, directing the question at Flynn as she settled herself in Wyatt’s arms so he could nuzzle into her and Flynn at the same time.

“I think so.”

Wyatt would kill anyone who found out, but Flynn could actually carry him if they were careful about it. Lucy opened the doors for them and started up the hot water as Flynn set him carefully down in the shower. Wyatt couldn’t help the startled noise he made as the water hit him and Flynn chuckled fondly, grabbing the shampoo.

Flynn washed his hair as Lucy scrubbed him down with soap, which took a lot longer than usual because they kept stopping to let Wyatt nuzzle them, pet them, be petted in return. He just really, really wanted to be cuddled. It was like the only thing he could think about. Just. Cuddles.

They washed themselves up as well and toweled him and one another off, wrapping a towel around him before Flynn picked him up and carried him back to bed, Lucy escorting them.

Thank God the others were asleep. Or at least pretending to be because they knew what was good for them. Hell, Rufus and Jiya could’ve been having a party of their own and Wyatt wouldn’t have noticed.

Normally, Lucy was in the middle when they slept. But on nights like tonight, at least to start, they put Wyatt in the middle. Lucy wrapped herself around him like a python, settling her head on his shoulder. Flynn got Wyatt half on top of him, touching him everywhere.

“Was that good for you?” Lucy asked, double checking.

Wyatt hummed. He couldn’t think of words at the moment.

“ _Perfekt_ ,” Flynn murmured, brushing his mouth over Wyatt’s cheek.

He was warm, and sated, and exhausted, and still partially floating on a euphoric cloud. He’d been washed off but he still felt messy and dirty and used and he loved it.

He slept so heavy he didn’t even dream, touched and loved all over.


	7. Stretch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *looks at list of tags on this thing* So in case it wasn’t clear to anyone before this: I am going to Hell.

When Flynn had first said it, it was a joke.

“Greedy,” he’d whispered in Lucy’s ear as she insisted she was ready, she could take him, even though neither he nor Wyatt had prepped her very much. “I bet you’ll be asking to take the both of us next.”

The way that Lucy had shuddered, however, gave both men pause. That was Lucy’s I’m-genuinely-turned-on-by-that shudder.

None of the three said anything, but it was quietly filed away for later.

The next time was when she and Wyatt were in bed together, Flynn getting a lesson from Rufus on Lifeboat repair just in case something went wrong and Rufus was incapacitated.

“Harder,” Lucy was begging him. “Harder, more, Wyatt, please—”

Wyatt moved over her, in her, kissing her and snapping his hips, but he could tell the itch wasn’t quite getting scratched this time. “I could call Garcia,” he teased, “Ask if he wants to slide in there too.”

Lucy made a keening noise at the back of her throat and orgasmed.

She and Wyatt stared at each other for a moment, both of them blushing, neither sure what to say.

Wyatt immediately went to Flynn at the first opportunity, worried he’d crossed a line.

“She orgasmed, Wyatt, I’m pretty sure that’s the opposite of crossing the line,” Flynn noted.

Lucy didn’t talk to anyone but did thorough research. It would take some… training, for lack of a better term, but just reading about it made her shiver in anticipation. It wasn’t the sort of thing that she could do every day, and she didn’t really need to do it every day, just like she didn’t tie Flynn to the bed every time they had sex.

But, oh, just as a once in a while type thing, yes, definitely, she wanted to do this. The very idea made her start to feel hot all over. It wasn’t always easy, finding positions for all three of them. It helped that it wasn’t always all three of them, all the time. Flynn and Wyatt would fuck against a wall, or she’d suck Flynn off in the shower, or Wyatt would finger her under the cover of watching a movie. Sometimes the third person wouldn’t be there, or they’d just watch, or would be too tired, or whatever. It didn’t matter, really.

But she did love when it was all three of them. Sometimes it was frantic and messy, all hands and mouths everywhere, thrusting and grinding until she had no idea who was touching whom anymore. Other times it was slow and seemed to take forever, working each other up, making sure each person was satisfied, sinking into whatever position they’d decided on.

If she could pull this off—no pun intended—it would be another way that all three of them could be together.

She knew the boys would like it. How could they not? Wyatt liked it when he or Flynn would wrap a hand around both of their cocks, stroking until they came. This would be the same thing, only they’d be inside her as well, so really, she didn’t see any reason for complaints from them.

Of course, there would be the whole panic attack from Wyatt and stern _are you fucking kidding me Lucy I’m not going to risk hurting you_ from Flynn. But she could handle that just fine.

The only question was how the hell to bring it up to them.

She started by practicing on herself, adding a couple of her own fingers when she was alone with the dildo (the one that Flynn had gotten in bright pink just to fuck with Denise’s men, since they had to check every package in and out of the bunker).

At first, she had to wait until she was in the middle of it, close to orgasm, her body already loose and lost in the rhythm. It was tight, but she kept at it, and soon she could slide two or three of her fingers in alongside, moving them at the same pace as the dildo.

That felt good—the stretch of it, the feeling like she was pushing herself, skirting the edge of too much. It made her shake all over as she came, made her want even more, feeling greedy.

It took a few times, but eventually she was able to take it all easily, relishing the buzz underneath the first layer of her skin, the way it made her body feel too tight, too small for herself, the way the breath was punched out of her lungs.

She worked up to her hand next—probably sooner than if one of the men had been doing it for her, but she’d always been the impatient type and dammit her hand was smaller than one of theirs anyway, so they could just stuff it.

No pun intended.

Once she’d gone as far as she thought she could without involving someone else, she thought she had a pretty good idea of where her limits were. She could get pretty stretched but she should probably come first, so she was loose enough…

It was like planning a goddamn battle or something.

She brought it up to Flynn first, since he was the least likely to have a full-blown panic attack over it.

Wyatt was out with Denise doing some Delta Force badassery on Rittenhouse in the present, and Flynn was kept behind at the bunker in case Rittenhouse somehow found where it was and attacked while the cavalry was gone.

It was hilariously easy to seduce either Wyatt or Flynn. All she had to do was give them a look and crook a finger at them to come here. The power of it always gave her a rush. In a world where she had no control over anything, she had full control over these two men.

She waited until Flynn had her up against the wall and was inside of her, the two of them kissing like all the oxygen in the world was in each other’s mouths.

“You love this,” Flynn observed. “You really like having something inside of you, don’t you? You like feeling full.”

“Could be fuller,” Lucy told him, kissing along his jaw. “Could be—both of you.”

Flynn went still, his hips stuttering to a halt. He pulled back so that he could look her in the eye. “Are you—you’re serious?”

Lucy nodded. “I’ve been doing some test runs.”

Flynn made this amazing face where it looked like he was choking on his own spit. “You—test runs?”

She nodded, pulling him back in so that she could kiss him. “Think about it,” she whispered, in that low sweet voice she knew Flynn—and Wyatt—loved. “The two of you both inside of me, both together, all of us connected…”

Flynn’s breath stuttered in his chest and she felt the rumble of his groan even as he tried to suppress it. She smiled against his lips. “I knew you’d like the idea.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Flynn warned. “This isn’t porn, we’ll have to be careful.”

“But think about the reward,” Lucy pointed out. She could tell she was winning with how he was starting to move his hips again, almost subconsciously, like he was already imagining it. “Think about it, being inside of me, getting to rub against Wyatt at the same time, I’d be so full, you know I’d love it, you know I can take it, I want to take it…”

Flynn snapped his hips harder, biting down on her bottom lip with a growl. “You’re going to kill us someday, _cher_.”

“So long as it’s after you both fill me up,” Lucy informed him. Flynn groaned in response and yes, she totally had him now.

“You’re a slut,” he reminded her.

She shivered. “Just for you two.”

Talking to Wyatt about it went about as well as predicted. That is, he was fiercely vetoing the idea even as his face flushed with the tell-tale sign that he wanted it.

“We’ll hurt you!” he argued. “Luce, c’mon, you’ll tear something.”

“No, I won’t,” she replied. “This thing is made to push an eight-pound-baby out, I think it can handle two dicks.”

Wyatt gaped, looking a little horrified at the thoughts that gave him.

Flynn rolled his eyes. “She’s got a point. And apparently she’s been…” he cleared his throat. “Practicing.”

Wyatt goggled at her. “Practicing!?”

“Well I had to work myself up to it, psychologically, physically—you can’t just dive into the deep end.” Honestly, what did he think she was, an idiot?

“I think I’m having a heart attack,” Wyatt murmured, apparently unable to decide whether to give in and admit this was hot or keep freaking out about potential injuries.

“It’ll take some time,” Lucy went on. “But I want this.”

And, well, that was going to be the thing that won Wyatt over. Because at the end of the day, he couldn’t ever deny Lucy what she wanted.

She worked with Flynn while Wyatt watched because Wyatt fully admitted that he’d have a panic attack if he tried.

He did like watching, though. Lucy could see him clutching fistfuls of the sheet, his cheeks going pink as he watched Flynn fuck Lucy, adding his fingers alongside his cock, until she could take it just as easily as her own fingers.

Then they did some basic test runs. It took them a few times before all three were satisfied with her body’s comfort level.

And by ‘all three’, she meant Wyatt and Flynn. But then they’d all learned that they couldn’t always trust Lucy with her own estimation of how ready or not ready she was. They knew those first few times weren’t going to be sexy, weren’t going to be entirely comfortable. Just slowly starting to acquaint her body with the idea, helping her get over the initial, instinctive rush of panic that made her throat close up.

The more that they talked about it though, the more comfortable both men got with it and the more they were able to admit that they wanted to try it out.

“Of course I’d like that,” Wyatt finally admitted at one point. “But I don’t—I just want to be sure that you’re doing it because you want it and not because you think we want it or you’re doing that thing where you have to do something just because it’s a challenge.”

“I do not do something just because—”

Flynn nodded at her. “…you really do.”

By the time that they actually got around to it, Lucy could feel the anticipation buzzing up underneath her skin like a kind of drug. This must be what it felt like on a mountain just before the avalanche hit.

They started out slow. Made sure it was one of those evenings after they’d just come back from a mission. They didn’t have anything to do the rest of the night on those days, and the adrenaline of the mission had them keyed up, their bodies thrumming with the need to find a release.

Wyatt pressed her back against the wall, sinking to his knees and kissing his way up her thighs. Flynn took her face in his hands and kissed her, let her cling to him as Wyatt slowly licked into her, made her shudder to pieces. This was a part of the agreement—that she already come once before they started, to make sure her body was looser, more relaxed.

Someday Lucy was going to have to remember to send Jess a thank-you note for teaching Wyatt how to eat out, because dear _God_. She clung to Flynn, her legs buckling. He kissed her to keep her quiet, and Lucy couldn’t wait for the day when they had a place of their own and they could all be as loud as the hell they wanted.

She made desperate little noises into Flynn’s mouth as Wyatt continued to lick at her, scraping his teeth just the slightest bit, sucking at her, getting inside her oh Jesus fucking _Christ_.

A strangled moaning noise came out of her throat as she came, hips jerking. Flynn had to hold her up otherwise she’d have collapsed right on top of Wyatt.

“Beautiful,” Flynn murmured. Wyatt and Flynn were equally sappy, but Flynn was the one who showed it through words.

Wyatt stood up, smiling at her as if to say that he agreed with Flynn. Which, well, she knew that he did.

Her ridiculous boys.

Flynn grabbed the supplies while Lucy pushed Wyatt backwards, yanking off his clothes as he stripped her of hers, the back of his legs bumping the bed and making him sit down, tugging her with him. Lucy crawled into Wyatt’s lap, kissing him, spreading her legs and settling down onto him. Both Wyatt and Flynn kissed in ways that were all consuming, Flynn like wildfire but Wyatt like the ocean, deep and entrancing and slowly pulling her under until she forgot what it was like to breathe normally.

She ground against him, felt him hard and rubbing up against her thigh, almost but not quite entering her. Behind her, she heard the bed creak and felt hands sliding over her, a broad chest press up against her back.

“May I?” Flynn asked, his voice rough and low in her ear.

Lucy nodded, and immediately his hand moved down between her legs, two of his fingers sliding into her.

She loved when they got to do this, when it was both of their hands all over her and in her, making her unable to predict what would happen next, making her feel overwhelmed.

Wyatt put his hands on her hips, raising her up as Flynn’s fingers slid out of her. “Ready?” Flynn asked.

She nodded.

They were starting with Flynn, since coming from behind, his position was a little harder for them to get into.

Wyatt helped to guide her as she sank down, sucking in a breath as she was stretched, filled, in that way that had become so familiar by now. She was certain that if she was blindfolded she’d know which one of them it was based on how they entered her, exactly which way the puzzle pieces fit together. It was like the wedding rings locked in the Lifeboat, something intimate locked inside of her heart where it would never be removed no matter what else happened on the outside.

She had to do most of the work from his position, pushing herself up and then lowering herself down. She liked the control, and both men certainly helped by kissing her everywhere, Flynn’s mouth on her neck and Wyatt’s tongue down her throat. She lost herself in the rhythm of it for a moment, the angle perfect, gasping and making little noises against Wyatt’s lips as she rolled her hips and felt Flynn’s hands tighten on her waist.

When the feel of him thrusting inside of her took on that slick friction feeling, when the glide became electric and set her body tingling, she nodded. “Okay,” she told them. “Okay, now.”

She saw them make eye contact. Saw Flynn give Wyatt a reassuring nod.

Lucy felt as well as saw Wyatt take a deep breath. He wrapped an arm around her waist, helped her to raise herself up—she felt Flynn’s hand, Wyatt’s fingers, heard one or all three of them take in a shuddering breath—and then slowly, oh so slowly, Wyatt began to push in as well.

It was like her nerves were flashing cold and then hot repeatedly, unsure which to stick with when there was so much sensation flooding through them. She was sucking in gulps of air, her head falling back onto Flynn’s shoulder, her fingers trembling where they wrapped around Wyatt’s biceps.

She was full, she was so _full_ , she couldn’t fucking breathe because of it, and for a moment that panic welled up in her throat again. Fear flooded her like ice, made her go stock still. What if she really did hurt herself? What if this was a fucking insane idea like Wyatt had said and she was going to do something really, really bad to herself? What if—

Wyatt paused, and she could sense him searching her face, reading her every expression, waiting. Flynn’s fingers trailed soothingly up and down her stomach. “Relax,” he reminded her. “You can do this. Relax.”

She took in a deep breath, and then exhaled slowly, forcing her muscles to release as she did so.

Another breath in… another breath out. Relax.

Her body began to grow used to it. Remembered that it could, in fact, do this. The feeling of fullness began to feel more welcome, sort of familiar but infinitely more than before, and delicious for it.

Then she started wanting that friction back, wanting that movement.

She looked Wyatt in the eye. He was still watching her, breathing heavily, his eyes darting over her face to check for any sign of pain. And there was a bit of a burn to it, sure, but she knew that would go away soon. There wasn’t any actual pain.

She nodded at him.

Wyatt let her sink down further, inch by slow inch. Her body opened up carefully, tentatively, but it did so, until she could feel both of them completely inside of her, felt herself trembling at the edge of overstimulation.

Flynn made a kind of strangled, shocked noise that he tried to muffle against her shoulder but didn’t quite manage. Lucy felt her lips flutter upwards into a smile. Made eye contact with Wyatt and found him grinning at her, dopily, his eyes a little glazed.

She knew they’d like this.

She nodded at him again. “Go on.”

They moved slowly at first. It was difficult to figure out the rhythm they wanted and they didn’t want to do too much too soon and hurt her. But after a few minutes they figured it out, fell into place as they always did. Lucy’s pants started to carry sound with them as the pleasure slowly cranked up, bit by bit, until little squeaks were coming out of her with each exhale.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , this was why she’d requested this, this was definitely fucking worth it. She could feel both of them, was being stretched and filled and worked beyond anything, she couldn’t even feel the tips of her goddamn fingers anymore and she fucking _loved_ it.

Flynn had his teeth sunk into her shoulder and she could feel his body jerking in that extra little way it did when he had found the sweet spot for himself, and Wyatt was just staring down between them, slack jawed, like he was seeing it and still couldn’t quite believe it but either way it didn’t matter because he was finding it really, really hot.

She wasn’t even sure if she was orgasming or not. It was all too much, like she’d been catapulted right up to orgasm and had gotten stuck there, each thrust a little miniature one, another wave to ride. She couldn’t even make noise anymore. She couldn’t even manage the coordination to kiss anyone, could only cling to whoever, she didn’t even know who, and ride it out. Flynn’s hand was low at her stomach and she wondered if he could feel them both moving inside of her, wondered if—and then his fingers were at her clit and she thought she could feel Wyatt start to come and oh fuck, oh _fuck_ , _oh_ —

She screamed but made no noise. Her body was past the point of stiffening or thrashing, instead shivering uncontrollably. Her head fell forward, resting against Wyatt’s shoulder.

Oh holy fuck, that was—that was—

She made a tiny noise as she felt first one, then the other, slide out of her. She could hear the obscene noises they made, feel the mess sliding down her thighs and staining the bedsheet.

She couldn’t stop shivering, but every shiver felt so good, she didn’t mind. Someone might smite her for this but Jesus tap-dancing fuck, that was the closest thing to a religious experience she’d ever had.

Wyatt pushed her back into Flynn’s arms and she could feel Flynn’s harsh breathing against her back. His hands gently took her thighs and spread them open and she felt Wyatt gently check her, make sure they hadn’t hurt her.

She’d tell them that she was fine, more than fine, better than fine, but she couldn’t get her mouth to work. Or her brain to quite remember what speech was.

She just turned her head and mouthed idly at Flynn’s neck instead.

“All good,” Wyatt said quietly.

She heard them kiss, and then Flynn chuckled. “Do you even know you’re doing that?” he asked her.

Doing what? Kissing her husband’s neck (or trying to, her mouth wasn’t quite cooperating still)?

Wyatt snorted in that way he did when he thought she was being adorable. “I’ll get a washcloth.”

She couldn’t seem to open her eyes. She might just fall asleep here, thanks. Flynn made a lovely pillow. And now that the shivers were becoming more infrequent, she was realizing just how strung out her body felt. How pleasantly but undeniably sore.

Ah, yeah, she was going to have a real hard time walking tomorrow morning.

Wyatt carefully wiped her up with a warm, wet washcloth, and then she was tipped over onto her side. She managed to make a noise of protest when she didn’t feel the two men climb in right after her.

“You, darling, are in no condition for a shower,” Flynn told her. She felt his lips press against her temple. “But we need one. We’ll be right back.”

Her body settled into the mattress like she had no bones at all. She hadn’t felt this fucked out and relaxed in _ages_.

About ten minutes later she felt them climb into bed with her, one on each side, wrapping themselves around her.

“You good, babydoll?” Wyatt asked.

She nodded into his arm.

“Lucy Preston, speechless, I never thought we’d see the day,” Flynn chuckled.

“Did you…” she could tell that Wyatt wasn’t talking to her.

“Loved it,” Flynn confirmed. His hand came up to play with her hair. “Definitely a once in a while thing, though.”

“Okay. I mean, same here.”

Lucy smiled. Once in a while thing or no—fuck yes, they were doing that again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was sort of requested by JennaKaylor, who mentioned DP. If anyone has any requests feel free to mention them—I can’t guarantee that I’ll fill them (might not be my kink, etc) but I’ll do my best and I appreciate new ideas!


	8. Hot Tub

They were in London, 1946, making sure that the first meeting of the United Nations went through—because of course Rittenhouse wanted to put a stop to that—when they found themselves finishing up the mission with, surprisingly, not having to run from the police or hide a dead body.

And their hotel room was paid for through the night.

“Guys,” Lucy said, peering down through the window. “Guys, there’s a jacuzzi.”

“You guys go,” Rufus said around a yawn. “I’ve dealt with enough racism for one day, God knows what the staff’ll say if they see a black man in the same pool as white people.”

“Almost makes you miss the subtle racism of the 21st century, right?” Flynn said, grabbing some towels. “I’m game if you are, Lucy.”

“Why do I have a feeling I’ve got no say in this,” Wyatt muttered as Lucy grabbed his hand.

“Because you don’t,” she replied.

It was late, and they probably technically shouldn’t have been out in the pool area anymore. But this was before keycards, and there were few locks that Flynn couldn’t pick.

“Just be quiet,” Lucy told them as she slipped off her shirt.

“…wait are we skinny dipping?” Wyatt asked as Flynn did the same.

“Did you bring a bathing suit?” Flynn replied.

Lucy slid into the water, groaning in relief. “It’s so _warm_.” Goddamn English climate.

“This is going to get us in so much trouble,” Wyatt grumbled, but he started undoing his pants.

Lucy grinned, swimming over to watch. “That’s the spirit,” she said.

Flynn wolf whistled.

Wyatt flipped him off and got into the jacuzzi.

“I’m never leaving,” Lucy declared. She was just small enough she could float on her back without bumping her head on the walls. Her dark hair spread out around her head, swirling like milk in coffee.

Flynn settled back against the wall, one hand gently resting on Lucy’s ankle to keep her from moving around and hitting her head. He crooked a finger at Wyatt.

Grumbling, Wyatt slid around Lucy and settled in against Flynn’s side, letting Flynn nuzzle into him.

“This is nice,” Lucy sighed. God, she loved this. She could see the stars above her, much better than in the 21st century. It still amazed her what just seventy years of pollution could do. Flynn’s hand was gentle on her skin, like an anchor, but otherwise she felt weightless. Drifting and warm.

Flynn hummed his agreement, wrapping his arm more firmly around Wyatt. “I thought,” Wyatt said, turning his head and giving into Flynn’s obvious attempts to kiss him, “that we were just going to relax in the water.”

“You don’t find this relaxing?” Flynn replied, pressing the words into Wyatt’s mouth in between slow, sucking kisses.

“You’re both naked and we’re making out, I’ll let you draw your own conclusions,” Wyatt replied.

Lucy splashed down to a standing position when Flynn’s hand left her ankle and she heard Wyatt yelp in surprise. She grinned—seeing where Flynn’s hand now was, it didn’t take a genius to figure out where he’d grabbed Wyatt.

“Oh, we’re moving onto that already?” she asked.

“You say that like sex was the plan all along,” Wyatt said, yanking Flynn’s hand out from between his legs and glaring at him.

“It was my plan all along,” Flynn said without a hint of shame. He darted in and pressed another kiss to Wyatt’s lips before Wyatt could stop him, then backed away again before Wyatt could recover enough to swat at him.

“Aww, c’mon, Wyatt,” Lucy cooed. She climbed up into his lap, which wasn’t playing fair—but then Lucy had long ago abandoned the idea of playing fair. “Don’t tell me you didn’t think about this just a little at Hedy’s house.”

Wyatt glared at her, then at Flynn, then at Lucy again. “You’re both horrible influences,” he said, but there was this look of exasperated fondness creeping into his face that very much said the opposite.

Lucy smiled, leaning in and kissing him slowly. “C’mon,” she purred. “We’re escaping in the Lifeboat tomorrow morning. We’re in 1946. We just scored a victory. Let’s live a little.”

She felt the water stirring behind her and then felt Flynn begin to kiss her neck, gently pushing her wet hair out of the way so that he could suck the drops of water from her skin. She hummed happily, kissing Wyatt again. She could feel the moment the last of his token protests faded away because he sank farther down into the pool, wrapping his arms around her waist and hauling her up against him.

Flynn’s hands started wandering all over her, nails scraping lightly in some places, the pads of his fingers rubbing gently in others. Lucy rocked back and forth, pushing forward into Wyatt and then back into Flynn, feeling how hard both of them were getting, loving how easy it was to just sink into each other now—how comfortable it was to flip the switch.

“Wyatt,” Flynn murmured, and then he must’ve done some kind of hand signal or something because Lucy didn’t hear anything else but then she felt Flynn lifting her up and Wyatt moving out of the way, giving Flynn room to set her on the edge of the pool.

“Let me,” Wyatt said, and Lucy only had a moment to catch her breath as Wyatt was kissing Flynn and then both men were gently pushing her legs apart for Wyatt to move in between and lick his way up her thighs.

Lucy wanted to let her head fall back but she didn’t want to miss out on the view, especially when Flynn wrapped an arm around Wyatt and dipped a hand between his legs again, winking at Lucy over Wyatt’s shoulder.

She felt Wyatt’s tongue jerk momentarily, but then he was back to licking inside of her and the edges of her vision went white. She was the only one who’d been in a threesome before they’d gotten together (with two other girls at a sorority party—she hadn’t even been in a damn sorority) and so at first they’d all had problems multitasking. But now, hey, Wyatt wasn’t about to let a hand job stop him from sucking at her clit and making her moan.

Lucy braced one hand on the cool cement and threaded her other hand through Wyatt’s hair, holding him in place as he twisted his tongue inside of her and her hips jerked. She could see the strain in his shoulders from where Flynn was jerking him, clearly going slow and teasing him in the way that drove Wyatt crazy.

“Remember to be quiet,” Flynn told her, like he wasn’t the one making Wyatt groan against her skin, the vibrations making her gasp and moan.

Wyatt suddenly jerked, which made his teeth scrape against her clit. Lucy flung her head back, biting down hard to hold in her cry, the sound coming out as a kind of pained whine instead.

Her legs were doing that pleasantly-shaking thing that happened after a good orgasm, what Flynn always liked to teasingly call “aftershocks.”

“All right, asshole,” Wyatt growled, turning and grabbing Flynn. “Your turn.”

Lucy pulled Flynn in between her legs, his head resting in her lap, her fingers running through his hair as Wyatt braced himself on Flynn’s legs.

“You’re going to fucking drown,” Flynn noted dryly.

Wyatt glared at him. “Special forces training. I can hold my breath for five minutes.”

…well that explained a hell of a lot.

Flynn made a choking noise. Lucy grinned, running her hands over Flynn’s chest and kissing his temple. “You did kind of ask for it, sassypants.”

Flynn glared up at her, but then Wyatt sank down under the water and the glare melted into something entirely different. Lucy smiled down at him, massaging lightly at his shoulders and chest, laughing a little when he started struggling not to thrust his hips.

Wyatt emerged, spluttering just a little, but managed to return Lucy’s wink before taking a deep breath and sinking back down again.

“We… are so… taking advantage of this again,” Flynn growled out, then he groaned, turning and biting down on Lucy’s thigh as his body jerked.

Lucy playfully smacked his chest. “Ouch, handsome, really?”

“You like it,” Flynn replied, licking at the bite mark.

Wyatt came back up, shaking the water out of his hair, red faced but grinning triumphantly.

“I knew there was a deviant in there somewhere,” Lucy teased, grabbing him and pulling him in, kissing the slightly bitter taste off his tongue.

“Rufus is definitely going to know what we were up to,” Flynn observed, before putting his hand on Wyatt’s cheek and turning him to kiss him as well.

Lucy laughed. “Of course he did, why do you think he was reaching for the earplugs as we headed out?”

Wyatt rested his head on Flynn’s chest, half floating in the water. “We need more of this,” he murmured. “More… breaks.”

Lucy ran her hands through his hair and Flynn’s, petting them both. “Then we’ll try and do more of this.”

They just lay there, warm all over, until the sky started to get pink. After all, they could sleep anywhere, including the bunker. But they couldn’t always look at the stars.


	9. Masochism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extasiswings gave me the idea for this one, so you can all yell at her.

Flynn crawled inside the Lifeboat.

He’d close the door behind him, but they never closed it except for when they were about to take off. He didn’t want anyone to know he was in there and if anyone saw the door closed, it would be a sure sign that something was up.

He needed to be alone, where nobody would think to look for him.

Every so often, he remembered why he had resisted getting with Lucy and Wyatt. Why he’d hesitated to tell them how he felt. Why he’d been convinced that they would leave him and choose only each other.

He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up so badly, and in so many different ways. The blood of dozens of people, good people, was on his hands.

And yes, all right, he could say that it was in service to a higher good. He could call it justified. But was it really? Could anything justify the deaths he’d brought?

As he’d gone further along in his mission he’d gotten smarter. He’d targeted only specifically Rittenhouse members, high ranking ones, being careful about who he chose. But in the beginning? When Lorena’s scream rang in his ears? When all he could taste in his mouth was bile and blood and all he could see when he tried to sleep were Iris’s cold, dark eyes?

In the beginning he hadn’t cared who got caught in the crossfire. One person or a hundred, if he even suspected they were Rittenhouse, or if they were in the same place as a Rittenhouse agent—they were a target.

It was all worth it, he’d told himself. They were guilty too. Everyone is guilty of something.

But was it truly worth it?

And did he truly deserve the redemption that had been so easily handed to him?

No. No, of course not. Hands that had murdered and maimed did not deserve to caress and comfort.

He sat on the floor, back against the wall. Felt the cold, claustrophobic space. The space that Lucy hated so much no matter how many times they got in.

He should just go. Run. Go anywhere. Lead Rittenhouse on a merry chase, distract them from the others. Buy them time.

“Garcia?”

Flynn closed his eyes. Of course she’d followed him. Of course she knew where he was.

“Garcia.” Lucy climbed into the Lifeboat, shutting the door behind her. Obviously uncaring if anyone saw and thought it unusual.

She reached out for him, and he flinched instinctively.

Lucy pulled back. “Are you hurt?”

He shook his head.

She reached out again, slowly sliding her hand into his, grasping. Tugging.

“You should go.” The words came out as a low rumble.

“Something’s wrong,” Lucy replied. She got down on her knees, her hand coming up to cup the side of his face. “Talk to me.”

He gently pushed her away, as always unable to be rough with her, even when he wanted to be rough with everything else, to tear down the world and himself. “Just. Go, Lucy, please.”

“Do you not want me to touch you?” she sounded confused but not hurt, like a puzzle she was trying to solve.

He avoided her gaze. “Yes. No.”

“Well, which one is it?”

He sighed. “Lucy, please, just go.”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

He glared up at her, staring right into those soft, dark eyes. “You shouldn’t be here, all right? I shouldn’t—you should go. You should leave me. Let me be alone.”

“Is that what you want?”

He averted his gaze again. Lucy grabbed him by the chin, forced his gaze back up to meet hers. “Flynn. If that’s what you want, I’ll go. But I don’t think it’s what you want, is it?”

Flynn tried to look away, but her gaze was dark and commanding and God help him, he’d never been able to ignore an order of hers. Even an unspoken one.

“It’s not what you want,” Lucy repeated. “It’s what you think you deserve.”

He tried to push her away but Lucy had gotten slippery in her time fighting Rittenhouse and she dodged him, climbed into his lap, took his face in her hands. “Look at me.”

Her gaze searched his. Seemed to crawl into the very depths of him. From the beginning, she’d known more about him than he had told her.

He saw that she knew what he felt. That dirtiness, that unworthiness.

Then she leaned in and kissed him.

It was hungry, aggressive without being angry, devouring. He tried to turn the kiss savage but she wouldn’t let him, pulling away and making it gentle whenever he tried. “No,” she whispered harshly, a command. “This isn’t punishment. Never punishment.”

She kissed him again, shoving his hands away when he tried to tear their clothes off, touching him firmly but gently, until he started to get the picture and settled his hands on her hips.

“I—will—be—as—rough—as—you—want,” she told him, kissing him in between each word, swiftly undoing his shirt, her own pants, pressing his hands against her bare skin so that he could feel the warmth of her. “But never, _never_ because you think you deserve to be hurt.”

He couldn’t help the wounded noise that sprang out of the back of his throat, the way his eyes stung. His body thrummed with the need to lash out, to receive pain in return, but Lucy wouldn’t let him. She kept kissing him, rocking against him, slowly but surely removing their clothes until it was sweat-slick skin sliding together, all masks and armor gone.

“I killed a man,” she told him, nipping at his throat, her hand sliding between her legs as she started to finger herself. “In cold blood. I tried to kill Emma. Would you tell me to leave? Would you tell me to go away? Would you let me hate myself?”

He groaned, grabbing her, wanting to shake her until she understood but mouthing at her breasts instead. “You know what I’ve done,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and thick. “You know that your sins are nothing compared to mine. It’s saying a candle is the same as a wildfire.”

“They’re both fire.” Lucy wrapped her hand around his cock and started pumping it slowly, toying with him. “You deserve to be here, Flynn.”

She spread her legs and pushed herself up, then down, sinking onto him until he thought he was going a bit cross-eyed.

Lucy groaned, biting his shoulder as she finished sinking down all the way. She grabbed his hand, pressing it to her chest, where he could feel her heart beating wildly, blessedly powerful and alive. “You feel that?” she whispered. “You feel—you inside me, you feel my heart, you feel—” she grabbed his other hand, pressed it to her cheek where he could feel fresh dampness. “You feel that? That’s—all for you. Look at my eyes, look at me, look into me. You’re in here, and in here, and in here. I’m not letting you go, Garcia, you think you don’t deserve us but God, nobody deserves anybody anymore, and I don’t care what you think you’ve done because you’re here, and you’re never leaving, I’m not letting one more person leave.”

He could see her crying, hear the sob in her voice, and he smashed their mouths together, licking the words from her. Her heart raced against his hand, tears sliding over his fingers, her body clenching around him, holding him in every sense of the word.

“Any one of us could argue for it,” Lucy whispered. “Any one of us could hold up our hands and there’s blood that’s never coming out. You don’t get to play martyr. I love you, and Wyatt loves you, and you will fucking accept it and _stay_ and _let us_ love you because if you leave, God, Garcia if you leave that will be the one thing I will never forgive you for, do you hear me?”

She rocked up and down, tiny, heated little movements that made her breath hitch, made his body start to tremble. “Say it, say you hear me.”

“I hear you.” He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her nose, her eyelids, her jawline.

“Say you’ll stay.”

He tried, but it felt like his own throat was trying to strangle him. Lucy moved faster, harder, her arms wrapping around him and her nails scratching deep lines into his back. “Say it,” she ordered, her voice growing hard and commanding the way it usually only did on missions. “Say you’ll stay.”

He swallowed once, twice, forced the words out as his vision blurred. “I’ll stay.”

“Say you deserve this.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Lucy—”

“You deserve this, you deserve me, you deserve Wyatt. Say it.”

“I deserve this.” The words were so soft he could barely hear them.

She kissed him, one or both of them letting out a sob, his chest going tight tight tight and then loosening up all at once, everything spilling out of him and into her.

He was shaking a little, but Lucy didn’t comment on it. She just kissed him softly all over, whispering, until it started to feel like he could breathe again.

He suspected that she’d told Wyatt to keep everyone away, because nobody disturbed them. They just sat there, Lucy holding him, for a very, very long time.


	10. Sparring

Wyatt dodged the roundhouse and retaliated with a kick to the sternum.

Flynn stumbled back, then feinted to his left. Wyatt fell for it, because he was a goddamn idiot, and Flynn grabbed him as he tried to move right, trying to flip him.

Wyatt headbutted Flynn from behind and turned, ready to jab, but Flynn grabbed his wrist and knocked Wyatt’s legs out from under him.

The only thing he could manage to do was yank Flynn down with him as he fell with an _oomph_ onto his back.

Flynn immediately pinned him, wrists locked above his head on the mat, Flynn’s weight pinning him down. Wyatt glared, trying to wriggle free.

“And the lesson we have learned today,” Flynn said, growling right in his ear, “is to stop being predictable.”

“The lesson we have learned today is that you’re a smug bastard,” Wyatt replied. He tried to get his leg up over Flynn so he could roll them and get free, but Flynn saw that coming and braced his knee into Wyatt’s thigh, keeping him from getting leverage.

It also happened to press everything else together.

Wyatt clenched his teeth as Flynn shifted very, very deliberately. “Is this another typical combat situation I should be aware of?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t call it typical,” Flynn replied. He shifted his grip so that he could hold both of Wyatt’s wrists in one hand, his other hand sliding down to wrap Wyatt’s leg around his waist. “But I could tell you the homoerotic history of wrestling if you wanted.”

Wyatt’s entire body burned with the feeling of being pinned, of Flynn’s weight on top of him, of his hands held. He knew that if he said anything, if he so much as looked like he was uncomfortable, that Flynn would back away in a heartbeat. But he also knew that he couldn’t, physically could not, get out of Flynn’s hold and the knowledge made his breath catch and his cock jerk in his pants.

Flynn brushed his mouth against Wyatt’s ear. “Mmm, we should do this with Lucy holding you down.”

Wyatt didn’t like handcuffs or ties—it felt too much like real-life situations he’d been in, where it wasn’t sex, it was death—but the idea of being actively held down by another person had always appealed to him more than he’d wanted to admit. The image of Lucy holding him down while Flynn fucked him… it made him shudder all over.

Flynn started thrusting against him, rolling his hips until he found the angle that made Wyatt’s eyes roll back into his head. “Fuck. God, fuck…”

“Nope, just me,” Flynn replied, tugging lightly at Wyatt’s earlobe.

Wyatt half-laughed, half-groaned, rolling his hips to meet Flynn’s thrust. It made him feel a bit like a teenager but he’d forgotten how good it felt to just get mindless, to rut against someone because you were too damn desperate to do anything else. “Nnngh I… I hate you so much sometimes…”

“Sure you do,” Flynn replied, kissing his neck, and then neither of them were saying much of anything because Flynn was speeding up, oh, fuck, his hands tightening on Wyatt’s thigh and around his wrists, his grunts hot in Wyatt’s ear, and it was like all those stolen snatches of fantasies that Wyatt hadn’t let himself dwell on back when Flynn was the enemy and fuck, fuck, right there _fuck_ —

He jerked roughly, feeling himself spilling into his pants, Flynn speeding up as he chased his own high. Wyatt turned and mouthed at Flynn’s throat, feeling used and loving it, rocking his hips until Flynn groaned and came, collapsing on top of him.

 

* * *

 

“How was the workout?” Lucy asked, pausing in her reading of _The Storm Before the Storm_ , a book on the events leading to the fall of the Roman Empire. “Did you learn anything?”

Wyatt could feel his face burning as Flynn said, “Trust me, we’ve never been more in sync.”

Lucy’s smile was far, far too knowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Storm Before the Storm is an actual book. I highly recommend it.


	11. Movie Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extreme bonus points to anyone who can figure out what movie they are watching based on the two annoyingly tiny clues I give.

Movie night usually meant just that: movie night.

Flynn would make popcorn, Wyatt would hog the sofa until they made him give them room, and Lucy would veto all romantic comedies unless bribed otherwise.

But every once in a while, something would happen that would cause them to kind of forget about the movie altogether.

It was probably why Rufus and Jiya didn’t join them anymore.

Still, Lucy would like to state for the official record that it was not her fault. She did not start it.

Wyatt did.

Okay, so maybe she was asking for it by sitting in Wyatt’s lap. But he didn’t have to put his hands on her thighs ten minutes in and start rubbing slow circles with his thumbs.

Nor did he have to then slowly press her legs apart and trail his index finger up and down the inside of her thigh.

And gently rubbing her through her underwear, just the barest tease of a touch, was completely unnecessary.

Then again, at no point had she told him to stop.

She knew the second that Flynn picked up on it because she saw him go from staring at the television screen to staring very, very intensely between her legs. Lucy hadn’t been into exhibitionism or voyeurism before dating two people at once but now she really, really had a thing for Flynn or Wyatt watching her with dark, hungry eyes while the other one made her squirm. The knowledge that she was being watched, that there was a witness to her being taken apart, made her breath come even faster and shallower.

Flynn had his arm around Wyatt’s shoulders, and after a minute or two she felt his other hand come to rest on her thigh, pulling her legs apart just an extra inch. She gripped his wrist, not in warning, just to give herself something to hold onto.

Wyatt hooked his chin over her shoulder, casually almost, like they were just cuddling, and he wasn’t starting to inch his hand underneath her sleep shirt.

The tips of his fingers brushed the underside of her breasts and she shuddered, falling back against his chest.

He pressed an openmouthed kiss to just behind her ear. “Like the movie?” he asked, his voice low, just as he reached up and tweaked one of her nipples.

Lucy whined, her breath starting to come in harsh pants. His fingers were still just touching her through her underwear, creating delicious friction but not giving her as much touch as she craved, not getting inside of her the way that she wanted.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Wyatt murmured, sucking on the back of her neck. She just knew she’d have a hickey there tomorrow, hidden by her hair.

His fingers kept circling her nipples, occasionally pinching or tweaking them, giving her that feeling of pleasure-pain, but it wasn’t enough. She needed his fingers inside of her, needed him to really touch her clit.

“Wyatt,” she moaned, arching her hips to get her point across. “Please.”

“She did say please,” Flynn rumbled, and she heard the strain in his voice. When she glanced over, she could see him rubbing himself through his sweats, his gaze darting all over, moving from her face to where Wyatt was touching her breasts underneath her shirt to where Wyatt was finally, finally sliding his hand into her underwear.

Lucy bit down hard on her lip to try and muffle the cry that worked its way out of her throat.

“Oh, fuck,” Wyatt murmured, sounding breathless as his finger sank into her. “Jesus Christ, you’re wet, Luce.”

“That’s what you get when you’re a fucking tease,” Lucy shot back, although the remark kind of lost its sting when Wyatt started rubbing at her clit with his thumb.

Her nails dug into Flynn’s wrist with one hand and she grabbed onto the back of Wyatt’s head with the other. “W-Wyatt…”

He sank a second finger into her and she couldn’t keep still any longer, rolling her hips in time with his fingers moving inside of her.

She heard a groan from Flynn, the kind of pained one that he made as he came, and then he was kissing her, tongue sliding into her mouth at the same moment that Wyatt thrust his fingers into her.

She came with a shudder, going boneless, and felt Wyatt rubbing up against her from behind, grunting out his orgasm as he continued to fuck her through hers, unrelenting until she could feel another one building up and she started to come again, sobbing into Flynn’s mouth.

Lucy sank down, boneless, and probably would’ve slid right off the couch if Wyatt hadn’t had his hands on her to keep her upright and on his lap.

“Hang on,” Flynn said suddenly. “Did he just shoot himself?”

Lucy cracked an eye open to look at the television screen. “Yup.”

“…we’re going to have to watch this one again, aren’t we,” Wyatt muttered as Flynn started yelling at the screen.

Lucy just hummed, resting her head back against Wyatt’s shoulder and tuning out Flynn’s grumbling about paradoxes.

She loved movie night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hint: It's a time travel film.


	12. Classy

There were a lot of great things about the 1920s: speakeasies, Wyatt in a suit, tommy guns, Wyatt bending over in tailored trousers, good music, Wyatt being a badass in a proper fedora and not whatever 21st century fuckboys were calling fedoras, easy to manipulate mobsters, Wyatt nonchalantly knocking back a finger of whiskey in a suit…

There was a definite theme here.

After the whole fight with Rittenhouse thing had gone down, which might or might not have helped to start, escalate, and then end a gang war, they all ducked into a speakeasy to hide out from any stragglers who were still looking for them.

Rufus went straight to the bar, ordered a glass of water because he couldn’t drive the Lifeboat while drunk, and then tried to get the blood out of his tie with minimal success.

Lucy went straight to the bar, ordered a drink, and then got a front row seat for the jazz singer who she may or may not have been flirting with because flirting with historical women was Lucy’s favorite pastime.

Even if she no longer took it beyond flirting.

Flynn, however, lingered by Rufus until he saw Wyatt disappear into the bathroom, probably to try and get the blood off of his shirt collar and cuffs.

“Keep an eye on Lucy for me,” Flynn told Rufus. “Make sure she doesn’t piss off the singer’s boyfriend.”

“As if I’m capable of stopping Lucy when she wants to start a bar fight,” Rufus muttered, but Flynn was already moving after Wyatt.

He tipped his hat at Lucy as he walked past her, and she winked, raising her glass at him before going back to gazing rapturously at the Bessie Smith wannabe.

Flynn made sure to lock the bathroom door behind him.

Wyatt didn’t notice him at first, intent on scrubbing uselessly at the red splotches on his collar. Then he spied Flynn in the mirror and paused.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

Oh, Wyatt. Always ready for the next attack.

Flynn walked over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing until Wyatt turned around, his back to the sink now. “Keep quiet.”

“Keep qui—ahh,” Wyatt’s words died away into a kind of half yelp, half groan as Flynn sank to his knees and quickly undid Wyatt’s pants.

Wyatt glanced towards the door. “Flynn. We are in so much trouble if we get caught.”

“So don’t get us caught,” Flynn replied, pulling Wyatt’s cock out and starting to lick it.

Wyatt breathed carefully through his nose. “This is—ah, fuck—this is the ‘20s, man, not exactly… oh God oh God oh God… not exactly known for being nice to the gays.”

“What about the bisexuals?” Flynn replied cheekily, before sucking Wyatt down as far as he could.

Wyatt clapped his hand over his mouth, his other hand gripping the sink. His eyes squeezed shut and Flynn could feel the leg muscles jumping underneath his hands as he worked Wyatt over.

He liked the challenge of Lucy, how she wasn’t easy to impress, how she demanded a top performance and a time commitment. But he also liked how easy Wyatt was, how he melted at the first touch, how he reacted so deeply to everything.

“Seriously, Flynn,” Wyatt whispered, sounding pained. “We—ohhhh my. God. Oh f… we are gonna get—if you—”

Flynn pulled back. “Look, if Hemingway, Mr. Man’s Man, Mr. Poster Child for Toxic Masculinity, can write an essay in which he clearly wants to blow F. Scott Fitzgerald, then I think I’m allowed to give my husband a blowjob in a random bathroom, don’t you?”

Wyatt started down at him, mouth open. “I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“Just keep those pretty little noises to yourself.” And then Flynn sucked Wyatt down his throat again.

Wyatt had to bite down hard on his knuckles. His grip on the sink with his other hand was as white as the porcelain. Flynn liked when Wyatt could be as loud as he wanted. He begged and pleaded very nicely. But this whole muffled thing had its appeal too. He’d have to talk to Lucy about getting a proper gag…

He didn’t tease the way he normally would. They didn’t have time for that. Someone was going to want to use this bathroom eventually. So he used every trick that he had, taking Wyatt all the way down to the root and then slowly drawing his tongue up the underside and he slid off, hollowing out his cheeks, working his tongue along Wyatt’s slit.

It definitely didn’t take long. Wyatt’s teeth were sunk so deep into his knuckles it was definitely going to leave a mark and he was making a constant high-pitched desperate noise in the back of his throat.

So Flynn brought his hand up and pressed right up against Wyatt’s entrance, almost but not quite sliding his finger inside.

Wyatt went off like a shot, his body shaking, making Flynn almost choke with it.

Goddamn, he loved watching Wyatt come apart.

Flynn stood up, rinsing his mouth out in the sink while Wyatt slowly composed himself. “Ow,” he said belatedly, staring down at his hand.

Flynn looked over and saw the perfect set of teeth marks. He grinned. “If anyone asks, you can say you punched me in the mouth.”

Wyatt tucked himself back into his pants, glaring at him, although the affect was somewhat ruined by the glazed look still in his eye. “I’m going to get you back for that.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it, _Liebling_.”

When they got back to the bar, Lucy was talking to the jazz singer and clearly praising her if the blush on the woman’s dark cheeks was any indication. Rufus gave Wyatt and Flynn a disappointed look as the two of them joined him.

“Tell me, do you two have any shame?” he asked. “Or is it too much to hope that you keep it in your pants for more than a couple of hours?”

Flynn held up two fingers at the bartender, indicating drinks for himself and Wyatt. “Come on now, Rufus, it’s not like you and Jiya don’t have your moments.”

Rufus just grumbled something into his drink that sounded like _stupid white people_.

Flynn grinned at Wyatt, who blushed and shyly smiled back.

What could he say? The man looked good in a suit.


	13. In a Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been hinting at this for a while so here it is... the Lucy being called a slut chapter... I'll just be hiding under the bed if anyone wants me...

“I really don’t know,” Flynn admitted. “It just… it’s demeaning, Lucy, I can’t make you feel like that.”

“But it’s not demeaning to—ouch!” Lucy yelped.

“Sorry,” Wyatt said from the foot of the bed.

One of the downsides to going back in time a lot was that women were generally expected to wear heels. Lucy spent a lot of time running around in the damn things, which led to horrible foot aches. Sometimes it would radiate all the way up her back.

Wyatt, thankfully, had been married to a bartender who spent eight hours a day running around after customers, and knew how to give a mean foot massage.

Lucy hadn’t really bought into the whole “all the nerves in the body are connected in the bottom of your feet” philosophy until she’d started having Wyatt dig his thumbs into her feet regularly, and now she definitely understood what people meant.

“Nope, I’m fine,” she told him. “Keep going.” Anything to get rid of this goddamn ache in her spine and calves.

“I get that you don’t see it as demeaning,” Flynn said, picking up the thread of the conversation again, his voice rumbling against her back. “But… I’ve only ever heard it used as a derogatory term. As an insult. I can’t insult you.”

Theoretically, she was sitting in between Flynn’s legs, her back to his chest, so that he could read her biography of Mary Shelley over her shoulder.

In reality, they were discussing the one kink Lucy hadn’t yet gotten Flynn and Wyatt to agree to participate in: calling her a slut.

“It’s just another form of dirty talk,” Lucy pointed out.

“One that suggests that you liking sex or having multiple partners makes you less than,” Flynn replied. “It makes you sound like an object, Lucy, for crying out loud.”

Normally Flynn was one hundred and ten percent on board with whatever Lucy suggested, or he was coming up with ideas himself. The vibrator one for Wyatt had been fucking genius.

But on this, he was reluctant. Now she had to convince not just Wyatt—who was remaining uncharacteristically silent and letting Flynn take point on this one—but Flynn as well.

Lucy understood, she really did. It was a word that was used to shame women for wanting and liking sex. But she liked it. In an odd way, it made her feel proud. Yes, she loved sex, yes, she’d had sex with a lot of people, and damn right she’d enjoyed it. She was a slut, and anyone who had a problem with it could talk to her fist.

Okay, well, they could talk to the very capable fists of her boyfriends. Lucy still always ended up yelping in pain when she punched someone.

The point was, she liked it. The way some women were like yes, I’m a bitch. Claiming it for herself changed the word, kept it dirty but made it fun. And, well, it probably played into her hint of a humiliation kink. Just a little.

If only she could get the boys on board with it.

“And here I thought there was no such thing as being too respe—owwww.” The last word turned into a groan of pain as Wyatt dug in with his knuckle.

“Sorry,” he said again.

“My spine no longer feels like it’s on fire so please, keep going.” She tipped her head back onto Flynn’s shoulder. “Think of it as a term of endearment. You like how eager I am for it, that I get greedy for it.”

Flynn’s cheeks got a little pink. “Yes…”

“Well, it describes how I am, doesn’t it? It doesn’t matter so much the word as the intention behind it. If anyone besides me called Wyatt sweetheart he’d shoot them.”

“True,” Wyatt admitted reluctantly.

“I’d never let anybody else call me that,” Lucy promised. “And I’d let you stab anyone who tried. And you never have to say it outside of the bedroom.”

“That’s what you said about the vibrator,” Wyatt grumbled.

“Pretty sure I can control what words I do and don’t say on a mission,” Flynn pointed out. “Can’t control an alarm going off while we’re in the middle of… other things.”

“That was literally the most uncomfortable day of my life.”

“It was the most entertaining day of my life,” Lucy admitted.

Wyatt dug in a little harder on her foot and she yelped.

“I’ll think about it,” Flynn promised. “And so will Wyatt.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes but nodded.

“But I can’t promise anything.” Flynn kissed her temple. “You’re magnificent. And that’s all I ever want you to feel.”

“I promise, that’s all I’ll feel,” she told him.

 

* * *

 

Flynn and Wyatt talked about it a few times.

“I figure,” Wyatt said, dodging Flynn’s punch and striking his side with a jab, “that it’s like when you get tied up or when you guys are—”

Flynn blocked Wyatt’s roundhouse, then grabbed Wyatt by the back of the neck, flipping Wyatt over his head and cutting off the rest of his sentence.

Wyatt rolled, dragging Flynn with him, trying to get his legs around him in a Brazilian jiu-jitsu hold. “—ordering me around and praising me and stuff. Some people would call that demeaning. But I don’t feel that way. I mean, I feel dirty, sure, but like, it’s sex, you’re going to feel dirty at some point.”

Sometimes literally.

Flynn smashed the heel of his foot into Wyatt’s face and twisted out of the hold, aiming for a spin kick. “I get that. It’s just what I know she wants and how I know she feels about it warring against what I know and what I’ve experienced with the word.”

Wyatt ducked and tried for an uppercut, which allowed Flynn to grab his wrist and twist it, pushing his arm up behind his back. If Wyatt had been a real opponent, that arm would be neatly broken by now. Instead, Flynn just held it there, giving Wyatt the opportunity to tap out if he wanted.

Instead, Wyatt headbutted him.

“Trust me, I get that,” Wyatt said, spinning around and falling back into his initial fighting stance, ready for whatever blow Flynn threw at him next. “It’s societal conditioning versus what you or your partner wants. That’s literally my entire sexual experience with you two.”

“Fair enough.” Flynn dropped down low and rushed him, knocking Wyatt off his feet.

A few minutes later, Wyatt had officially tapped out. “You’re still not aggressive enough,” Flynn huffed. “You’re fighting too defensively.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Wyatt held up his hand and Flynn grabbed it, hauling him to his feet.

“So what you’re saying is that you think you’re comfortable with it?” Flynn asked, grabbing two water bottles and tossing one to Wyatt.

Wyatt caught it. “I think so. It’ll take some practice. But so did the whole coming out as bi thing.” His cheeks got pink as he said it out loud. “I don’t think she’ll expect us to do it perfectly, be totally okay with it, you know, on the first try.”

Flynn got a thoughtful look on his face, taking a few gulps of water. “All right. Should we tell her ahead of time?”

Wyatt thought for a moment, cocking his head to the side. Then he smiled. “Nah. I think she’ll like it more if we surprise her. And then if we end up not being able to do it, she won’t know.”

Flynn nodded, a sly look entering his eyes. “All right then.”

 

* * *

 

The first time, it didn’t work out so well.

Flynn could tell that Wyatt had guessed, but Lucy, as far as he knew, hadn’t noticed.

It was a new thing, being in a position where he wasn’t sure if he could do what his partner wanted from him. Of course he knew Lucy would also never hold it against him if he straight-out told her he couldn’t and wouldn’t ever do that.

But normally, he was the one coming up with ideas or at the very least willing to try whatever was suggested. Wyatt was usually the one who needed a little convincing.

In fact, Wyatt seemed more okay with this than Flynn did—but that was probably because Wyatt better understood where Lucy was coming from.

Honestly, Flynn was tempted to put a picture of Wyatt under ‘submissive’ in the dictionary and then leave it lying around where Wyatt could find it. He’d earn a broken nose for it but. So worth it.

He had to try and think about it the way that he felt about when he needed Lucy to be completely in control. He was always in control, all the time, with their jobs. He had to be on point, he had to hold it together, especially as one of the two fighters—he had Lucy and Rufus to protect, and he had to watch Wyatt’s six, and he had to hold it together because he knew that he was the one everybody assumed would always hold it together. Came with the territory of having them first know him as the big bad time bandit, he supposed.

But sometimes, yeah, he needed to give up all of that control. Not all the time. And he definitely liked being in control of Wyatt, tag-teaming that with Lucy. But every so often, yeah, he had to let go of it all and be taken apart, just a little.

Lucy had proven herself more than capable of handling that challenge.

And there were a lot of people who would say that was him demeaning himself, as Wyatt had pointed out. But he didn’t see it that way, and he’d be a little upset if Lucy had at the very least refused to try and see it his way, and see what a release it was for him—how he sometimes needed it.

He just needed some time to get around to thinking about calling her… that… the same way.

 

* * *

 

It was about a month after she’d officially brought it up and they’d had their talk.

Lucy hadn’t forgotten about it, but she’d set it aside, mentally. Tried to come to terms with the fact that she probably wasn’t ever going to hear them say it, although she could so easily imagine it. Ironic, given that when she’d first met Flynn she’d have thought he was the kind of guy who had no problem calling her all kinds of names.

Now she knew him a lot better.

Wyatt, she had a feeling, was waiting to see what Flynn did. If Flynn did or didn’t do it, then Wyatt would follow. They were slowly coaxing Wyatt into taking charge more in his sex life, examining what he did and didn’t like, asking for what he wanted, but it wasn’t going to happen overnight, and he still liked Lucy or Flynn to take the lead on things.

She’d noticed that in their fighting as well, when they were on a mission. Wyatt liked coming up with plans when they could as to what they’d do in an impending fight but in the thick of it, Flynn would take the more aggressive point positions while Wyatt would provide more of a backup position, Flynn going after the bad guys while Wyatt would put himself in the defensive position between Rittenhouse and Lucy and Rufus—or whichever historical figure they were protecting that day.

So it was all up to Flynn.

But she’d honestly kind of let it go. Started to give herself the pep talk that it wasn’t going to happen. Which was fine. People wanted to go to Paris and never did, it wasn’t like not having this one thing in her otherwise fantastic sex life was going to send her into fits of despair or keep her from orgasming ever again.

All of this meant she wasn’t really thinking about it—or about anything, to be honest—when they were all climbing into bed together after a long day and Wyatt started kissing down her neck. She’d thought maybe the boys would be too tired—they were the ones who’d just fought off Rittenhouse goons, after all, she’d been busy giving Catherine the Great a pep talk.

Yes, this was her life now.

But Wyatt seemed plenty enthusiastic and Flynn was getting that _by all means, don’t stop on my account_ look on his face, so Lucy was happy to turn around to face Wyatt and let him kiss her until she could hardly breathe.

Wyatt was definitely in a mood tonight, kissing her hungrily, his hands roaming all over her, bunching up her shirt so that he could get at her bare skin. Lucy could feel Flynn’s hands occasionally getting involved, helping both of them out of their clothes, but he seemed mostly content just to watch for now.

One of the best parts of dating two people was that one of them (Flynn) could finger her while the other (Wyatt) could kiss her, without any wrists getting strained along the way. She rolled Wyatt onto his back, spreading her legs and sliding onto him, her breath slamming hard into her lungs as she sank down. Wyatt grinned up at her dazedly, then thrust up, hard, making her gasp.

Usually Wyatt was the soft one, although they could both be soft with her and that seemed to be their default, although she’d told them at least a dozen times that she was not made of china, thanks. But they all had their moods and apparently this was one of Wyatt’s fast and desperate nights, which she was far from complaining about, thanks very much.

She bent down over him, kissing him, rolling her hips down to meet his thrusts. God, she loved this. She was pretty sure she’d be sixty and still wanting it.

She saw Wyatt’s gaze flick to Flynn momentarily, saw Flynn—not quite nod, but his head dipped down ever so slightly.

Before she could even begin to think what it meant—although thinking in general was kind of difficult right then—Wyatt thrust up hard, making her groan, and told her, “Look at you. Took next to nothing for you be ready for this. But sluts are always ready for it, aren’t they?”

Lucy’s mouth dropped open, that thrill shooting through her—the one that made her feel like she was doing something wrong, something she shouldn’t be doing, something that was going to get her into trouble—and she loved it.

Wyatt grinned up at her, clearly pleased with her reaction, the shiver that she gave. “You really do like that?” he asked, almost in surprise.

“No,” Lucy gasped out, “I had a half hour long argument with Flynn about it for a lark.”

Wyatt slowed down his pace a little and she whined, twisting her hips, trying to get that friction back. She felt Flynn’s fingers come up, tucking her hair gently behind her ear, the heat of his body just behind her, not quite touching her.

His lips were at her ear, his voice low, rumbling. Normally it was just how his voice got, but right now, Lucy had a sudden suspicion it was because saying it quietly was all he could manage.

“Sluts know how to beg for it.”

Lucy shivered violently, letting her head fall back onto his shoulder. She never thought she’d say this, but thank God for frat boys, the one goddamn reason she knew that she liked this. “Please,” she gasped out, letting Flynn take her weight as Wyatt went maddeningly still inside of her. He might have been the one inside of her, but she was well aware which one was in charge right now. “Please, Garcia, please.”

She felt Flynn nod at Wyatt, who thrust up into her again, hard, making her moan. “Come on,” she encouraged, praising Wyatt second nature to her by now. “Give it to me, you’re doing so well, please, you know I want it.”

She couldn’t move much, not now with Flynn holding her. There was nothing she could do but take it, and damn if she didn’t want to take it all. It made her feel greedy but in a good way, not the guilty way she’d once felt when she’d first thought about getting to have both men.

Wyatt’s eyes were taking on that glazed look that he got when he was close. Flynn must’ve noticed it too, because he slid his hand down between her legs, rubbing at her clit until she was shuddering helplessly. Wyatt’s thrusts were getting more erratic, but that only made it feel better, and Flynn knew exactly how to touch her, oh—fuck—

She was only dimly aware of Wyatt coming, because she’d barely finished orgasming when she felt herself being turned, settled onto Flynn’s lap, felt him sliding inside of her. She gasped, biting down on hard on his shoulder, felt Wyatt recover and start kissing up her spine.

“Can’t have just one, can you?” Wyatt asked. “Sluts always need more, don’t they?”

Oh God, she owed them so big for this, she was starting to get that shivery oversensitive feeling that she fucking lived for. Flynn was moving hard and fast the way that she loved him for, the way he was much more inclined to be than Wyatt, and Wyatt was touching her all over, the two of them clearly pushing her right up to the edge and trying to get her to fall off.

Wyatt started touching her breasts, her clit, and oh, fuck, she was not going to last long, she really wasn’t, and then Flynn leaned into her ear again and said, almost conversationally, “Why don’t you come for me, Lucy?” and she moaned, not sure if she could, and he added, “Sluts come when they’re told to,” and that was it, that was the fucking final straw, back broken, and she was coming like she’d gotten smacked by a tsunami, shivering all over.

She kissed Flynn fiercely the moment she had control of her body again. “You two are the best and win all the awards,” she declared, turning and kissing Wyatt as well.

Flynn carefully lifted her off of him and deposited her on the bed as Wyatt started looking for wherever they’d stashed the tissues this time. “Thank you,” she told them, meaning it. That hadn’t been easy for them, and she wanted them to know that she knew that.

“We love you,” Flynn replied, as Wyatt emerged from under the bed with a triumphant _ah-ha!_ “We want to do what makes you happy.”

“He says, calmly, like he wasn’t freaking out about it,” Wyatt said, distributing tissues.

“I was not freaking out.”

“You let me get the upper hand during sparring. Twice.”

Lucy poked Flynn in the side. “Sorry, that is definitely a sign of a Garcia Flynn Panic Attack. Defcon 4.”

Flynn rolled his eyes, but she could see the faint pink tone in his cheeks, so she kissed him. “Oh no, my husband’s almost too respectful of me, however am I going to manage?”

“He’s got no problem disrespecting me,” Wyatt noted.

“You are literally begging to be disrespected,” Flynn replied.

“Okay, yes, true, maybe, but. Still.”

Lucy laughed, then sobered up. “I’m serious, though. Thank you. I know you guys don’t exactly understand why I like it, but I do, and you put an effort into doing that for me.”

“We always will, Luce,” Wyatt said, settling down on her other side.

“You’re worth it,” Flynn added.

Lucy let them kiss her, grinning like an idiot. She did like that bit of humiliation, that dirty talk, the name calling. But having her boys be utter saps about her was pretty damn nice too.


	14. Vibrate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The little *ahem* scenario that was referenced in the previous chapter.

Flynn would like to state, for the record, that this was not his fault.

Wyatt would like to also state, for the record, that just because Flynn couldn’t control the entire damn universe didn’t mean that Flynn had to fucking roll with it the way that he did.

Lucy would like to plead the fifth.

 

* * *

 

They had planned it carefully. So. Very. Carefully.

That was what had driven Flynn nuts about it and had made him so determined to keep at it despite the fact that it was potentially going to land him in huge trouble.

They’d just finished a fight against Rittenhouse and knew that meant that they had about a day before the Mothership jumped again. Not because the Mothership needed time to charge but because there was time needed to sleep and to plan. Rittenhouse was still diminished after the huge sweep that Christopher had organized, still mostly underground. And now that Emma was in charge, the whole internal structure of the organization was being rearranged. They still didn’t know all of the changes and how the new Rittenhouse worked compared to the old one.

They were a little scared to find out.

But they had time, they had _time_ , they had planned it…

Lucy finished doing Wyatt’s shirt up for him while she straddled his lap. “You feel good, sweetheart?”

He nodded, his hands on her hips. He felt good. He felt fine. For now, anyway.

That wasn’t going to last long.

They were playing a game—one that had no official name but some very simple rules. He was going to last as long as possible while Flynn and Lucy did their best to get him to give in and beg them.

Wyatt was determined to win this game, because if he could go all day, from now until after dinner, without giving in… he was going to get seriously rewarded.

Flynn winked at Wyatt from over Lucy’s shoulder. He had the controller in his hand, not doing much with it, just turning it over slowly. It was the promise of it, though, that made Wyatt shiver. He knew, Flynn was going to find a time and a way to use it soon enough.

Lucy pecked Wyatt on the cheek and then slid off his lap, holding out her hands to help him to his feet. “Shall we get some breakfast? I’m starving.”

They were in the middle of breakfast when Wyatt felt it start. Just for a moment, enough to make him jolt in his seat.

Flynn smirked at him, while Lucy choked on her cereal trying not to laugh.

Wyatt gripped the edge of the table as he felt the vibrations work through him, a low tease, making him want to spread his legs and beg for it because he was so fucking easy when it came to these two—but this was the whole point of the game. To see if Wyatt could actually last.

Flynn flicked off the remote again and Wyatt sagged a little, straightening up as Rufus and Jiya emerged.

“We made you oatmeal,” Lucy said, indicating the pot on the stove.

And that was when it happened.

The alarm went off.

“No,” Lucy blurted out in dismay. She shot an alarmed look at Wyatt.

“All right,” Denise said, entering in a suit and looking like she’d been up for hours already. “Where are they, Jiya?”

Jiya, still in her pajamas, all but dove for the computers. Rufus barreled out of the room, presumably to put on some proper pants.

“You’re just going to steal new clothes anyway!” Flynn yelled after him.

“Agent Christopher, could I—” Wyatt started.

But then Jiya yelled, “May 5th, 1789!”

“ _Les états généraux_ ,” Lucy blurted out at once. “The Estates-General, a meeting of all the powerful men in France, ordered by King Louis XVI. There were clergy, nobility, and the middle class all in attendance for the first time since the early 1600s.

“It played a key role in the leadup to the French Revolution. If Rittenhouse can influence certain people, eliminate others…”

“It’ll make the revolution even worse than it already was,” Flynn finished.

“Europe’s unstable enough. America’s just gotten their independence, the rest of Europe is trying to follow.”

“Then let’s go,” Denise said, as Rufus reappeared in jeans and a t shirt.

“But Agent Christopher—” Wyatt tried again.

“Now, Wyatt.”

He jumped to his feet, shooting a panicked look at Lucy. Lucy trailed her hand down Wyatt’s arm, taking his hand to lead him to the Lifeboat, reassuring him.

Flynn’s scheming smile was less reassuring.

Yeah, he did not think this was gonna go well.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt hated when they had to go really far back in time and he had to wear ridiculous clothes like this.

Clothes that had tons of layers and restricted him and made it impossible to get any kind of fucking relief and just acting like another form of restraint…

It was possible that he was overreacting just a little.

Flynn was teasing him. They were in the middle of a mission and Flynn was teasing him.

He’d pick the _worst goddamn moments_. When Wyatt was trying to talk to someone to get information. When they were scanning a crowd. When Wyatt was trying to talk to Rufus of all moments.

Flynn never did it during moments of actual danger. When they were sneaking up on someone, or creeping around a mansion, or when they were interrogating the sleeper agent. It was during the moments when Wyatt would be the most embarrassed and have to really struggle to hold it together, but it wouldn’t really jeopardize the mission.

“Are you okay?” one woman asked in French when Flynn dialed it up to four or five (Wyatt couldn’t see the damn remote, hidden in Flynn’s pocket, so it wasn’t like he knew exactly what level it was but god _damn_ it) and Wyatt had made this kind of strangled whimpering noise and his knees nearly gave out.

“Would you cut that out?” Wyatt hissed once they’d moved on.

“I thought this was a part of the day?”

“Yeah, it was—a day where we sat around, in the bunker, and the worst that could happen was Jiya figured it out,” Wyatt shot back. “Not when we’ve got a mission at stake.”

Flynn shrugged, a little smile on his face—a smile that Wyatt recognized.

“Oh no. You didn’t.”

“I didn’t what?”

“Don’t lie to me.” Wyatt grabbed him and dragged him into an alley. “You made a bet with Lucy about this, didn’t you? You made a side bet.”

“I did no such thing,” Flynn retorted.

Wyatt felt like he was going to vibrate out of his damn skin, either from frustration or from damn _need_. He wanted to claw at Flynn, at himself, needed some kind of release, but he wasn’t going to lose this damn thing.

Not even knowing that, apparently, his boyfriend and girlfriend had made a side bet about it.

“What was it,” Wyatt demanded.

“It was nothing.”

“Garcia. I know when you’re lying.”

Flynn sighed, rolling his eyes. “So we… might have a wager where I said you wouldn’t last until five o’clock without begging and she said you would.”

“Lucy is my favorite,” Wyatt declared.

“Why?” Lucy asked, breathless, hurrying up with Rufus in tow.

Wyatt had to grab onto the wall—because dammit he wasn’t grabbing onto Flynn—as Flynn dialed it up again and his knees nearly buckled. He had to bite down on his lip hard to keep the noises in, and shot Flynn a glare.

“Are you feeling okay?” Rufus asked.

“He got in a fight,” Flynn said. “Nothing major, just some bruises.”

Rufus looked suspicious but said nothing.

Flynn waited until they’d turned away, and then put his hand on Wyatt’s lower back to push him gently forward. Wyatt shot him another dirty glare, but Flynn had his ‘I’m so innocent’ face firmly in place.

Dammit.

 

* * *

 

“You’re not my favorite anymore,” Wyatt hissed.

Lucy shifted, pressing back up against him. “Oh?”

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

“We’re stuck in a closet, Wyatt.”

“And that means you have to press up against me like this? There’s at least another foot of room.”

“But this is more comfortable,” Lucy replied, tipping her head back against Wyatt’s shoulder and kissing his neck. “Don’t you think so?”

“Not when I’ve had Flynn turning that damn thing on me all day and now you…”

Lucy arched against him and Wyatt clenched his jaw. He wanted to be in her so badly, wanted Flynn in him so badly, but all he was getting was the tease. “This meeting better be over soon.”

“Knowing the French? Probably not.” Lucy sounded far too cheerful. She flicked her tongue out, licking at his pulse point, and Wyatt shuddered. “For now, it’s just you and me. That’s not going to be a problem, is it sweetheart?”

Wyatt buried his face in her shoulder to suppress his groan.

 

* * *

 

He was pretty sure it couldn’t get any worse… and then Flynn put the setting on two and didn’t. Turn. It. Off.

Wyatt was going to strangle him. Jesus fucking Christ.

For a moment he thought he was just going to have to give up, see if he couldn’t duck into a dark corner and press his hand down—he wouldn’t even need long, just a minute, he was so pent up he’d practically just need to rub one off through his damn dress pants.

But he was Delta Force for fuck’s sake. He could grit his teeth and bear it.

Flynn cheerfully just whistled as he went around searching for a musket.

And Lucy, the traitor, just smiled knowingly at him, because it was after five so apparently all bets were off.

 

* * *

 

“How was the mission?” Denise asked as they got out of the Lifeboat.

“Weird,” Rufus said, shooting Wyatt a look.

“Great,” Flynn said cheerfully.

Lucy just smiled as she took Wyatt’s hand to help him out.

Wyatt said nothing, because he was a little busy trying not to lose his damn mind.

Flynn had turned it up again to a four in the Lifeboat, when the way Wyatt arched and the way his mouth dropped open could be disguised as a bad trip through time, and Rufus’s back was to the three of them.

Lucy’s and Flynn’s hot eyes had been on him, watching as he gripped the seat, not touching him, not giving him anything, just watching him as he’d panted helplessly.

Rufus wasn’t an MIT graduate for nothing, though, and he’d apparently picked up on something because he was now all but booking it out of there.

Flynn checked up with Denise on how much history had changed, while Lucy led Wyatt straight to the bedroom.

“You were amazingly good,” she praised, shoving him back onto the bed and climbing up to straddle his lap.

“We’re still in these damn clothes,” Wyatt reminded her.

She kissed him, settling her weight fully onto him. “We can wash them.”

Lucy’s kisses could be hot and desperate but they also often had this soothing quality to them, this way of getting him to calm down and focus on just her and nothing else.

Then she started to rock against him, torture when he still had all those layers pinning him down, and then he saw Flynn enter from over her shoulder, his eyes practically devouring the two of them on the bed.

Lucy kissed along Wyatt’s jawline, sliding her hands from his shoulders to his wrists to gently pin his hands down to the bed. “Go on,” she said, and Wyatt knew she wasn’t talking to him.

He felt the vibrator intensify and he let out a kind of yell-groan noise he didn’t even know he was capable of making, his entire body seizing up as Flynn dialed the damn thing up all the way, Lucy’s weight on top of him, her rolling hips making it better and more intense at the same time. He was pinned by her hands, her body, by Flynn’s gaze, and he would’ve begged but he couldn’t even fucking _speak—_

“You were so good,” Lucy whispered, her teeth scraping over his neck. “C’mon then, sweetheart, you can come.”

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

That was really all he had to say on the matter.

It felt like it took years to get his breath back, to get his body to stop twitching. Lucy very patiently, in the meantime, got him undressed and then helped Flynn—and Flynn helped her—so they could climb into bed with him.

Flynn kissed him for the first time that day, possessive, his tongue sliding in and his hand cupping Wyatt’s jaw.

“You are so getting rewarded for that,” Lucy assured him as Flynn pulled away slowly.

Wyatt raised an eyebrow at her, glancing pointedly between Flynn’s legs and then up at her. “And I have a feeling it’s going to be rewarding for both of you, too.”

“Well, you weren’t the only one turned on all day,” Flynn noted, leaning in to put his mouth right at Wyatt’s ear. “You have no idea how perfectly wrecked you looked.”

Needless to say, Rittenhouse better take a damn break this time because none of them were getting a lot of sleep that night.

 

* * *

 

“If I ever hear about you three doing something like that again—”

“Can I just die?” Wyatt asked, interrupting Christopher’s tirade. “Please? Can I?”

Denise glared at them. “No. More. Of that. On a mission. If only because I do not need to foot the bill for Rufus’s therapy. Understood?”

All three of them nodded.

“You hear that Wyatt?” Lucy said as soon as Denise was out of earshot. “You have to do a better job of hiding it next time.”

“I— _next time_?”


	15. Lapdance

Flynn hadn’t really thought too much about the fact that Lucy had won their side bet on Wyatt. He probably should have, and he did right at first, but then time went on and they were a little busy fighting an organization trying to take over the world and, well, it just sort of slipped his mind.

But he really should have remembered it. Especially when one day he was sitting late at night at one of the desks going over some files—there was always at least one of them pulling an all-nighter nowadays—and Wyatt slipped his arms around him from behind, kissing his neck.

“Hey, stranger,” Flynn said, turning around in his chair. “I thought you and Lucy were asleep.”

“We were, I just realized you still hadn’t come to bed.” The _I realized because I woke up from a nightmare_ went unspoken.

Flynn turned himself so that he was facing completely away from the desk, tugging Wyatt down so that Wyatt was straddling his lap. “And let me guess, you want a little distracting.”

Wyatt shrugged, giving him that coy half-smile that’d made Lucy fall in love with him. Flynn had already been halfway in love with him by the time he first saw that coy little grin, already lured in by Wyatt’s defiance and hot headedness, but that smile had definitely sealed the deal.

He put his hands on Wyatt’s hips, tilting his head up so that Wyatt could meet him halfway and kiss him. He kept it slow, deep, knowing just how to distract Wyatt from the bad thoughts lurking in the corners of his mind.

Wyatt’s hands came up to gently cup Flynn’s face, then slid down his shoulders, his arms, taking Flynn’s wrists and carefully moving them around and behind the chair.

Flynn had only a moment to realize that was unusual, and then he felt the warm leather and the tell-tale _snap_ of the cuffs that he and Lucy had spent hours picking out months ago and had used many times since.

“…Wyatt.”

“Yes?”

“Did you just handcuff me to the chair.”

“Yup.”

“Why.”

“Because Lucy said to.”

“…and not at all because it’s payback for when I handcuffed you to a chair for an hour?”

“…no…”

Wyatt had never been a good liar.

Flynn really, really should have remembered that bet.

Wyatt gave him a final, cheerful kiss. “Have fun!”

Then he slid off Flynn’s lap and walked out of the room, back down the hallway to where he was undoubtedly going to go to bed.

Little shit.

For a minute, Flynn was alone in the room, only the lamp on the desk to light up anything. Then he saw Lucy step out from the dark hallway.

His jaw dropped.

She was wearing a dark red bodysuit, black lace lining it, a plunging neckline that went all the way down to her stomach and sheer on the back. His hands and shoulders flexed instinctively with the urge to touch her. He wanted to take her in his arms, haul her into his lap, up against the nearest wall, give it to her until she was screaming.

But she’d won the bet. And even if she hadn’t, Lucy was always in charge. He played by her rules, and she was most definitely setting the rules tonight.

Lucy’s hair was tied up behind her head, not a curl out of place. She sauntered up to him, walking slowly around him, trailing one finger along the ridge of his shoulders, staring down at him, her eyes dark and glittering.

Flynn stared back, not daring to speak.

Lucy bent down over him, and he could smell her shampoo, the lingering perfume that she put on in the morning. She brushed her lips over his temple, her fingers brushing over Flynn’s neck, his throat, slowly moving down his chest.

“You’re always so patient,” Lucy observed, removing her hand from his chest. She walked around to stand behind him, her hands moving to his shoulders, sliding down his chest, her lips at his ear. Flynn tipped his head back, groaning a little as Lucy nipped at his earlobe. “Think you can be patient tonight? Hmm?”

Flynn nodded, just the once, because he would always do what Lucy wanted. He was hardwired that way. Now that she was in his system, he’d never get her out. He never wanted to get her out.

Lucy smiled at him, slow and pleased like the cat that got the canary and the cream to go with it.

She stepped back, reaching over to the iPod speakers that they kept on the desk for when they were working. Jiya listened to film soundtracks, usually _Lord of the Rings_. Lucy listened to swing music.

It was definitely not swing music she was putting on now.

It was a jazz piece, sultry and slow, the kind that had couples on the dance floor in the ‘20s dancing with their limbs entwined and their hands roaming under clothes.

Lucy circled around him again, her hips swaying in time to the music, coming to stand in front of him. She kept swiveling her hips, slow and rhythmic, her hands sliding up her own body, exploring.

God, Flynn wished it was his hands moving over her curves like that, his hand coming up to pinch her nipple and stroke over her throat the way that her own hands were doing now. The way her hips were moving was deliberate, reminding him of all the times she’d climbed on top of him and moved around him just like that.

Lucy reached up, undoing her hair and letting it fall, thick and dark, curling around her face. Flynn wanted to tangle his hands in it and _pull_.

She sauntered up to him, still moving in time with the music, sliding down between Flynn’s spread legs and then moving back up again, her breasts against his chest, his hands sliding up his thighs. “Think you can keep being good for me?”

“Yes.”

Lucy leaned in, kissing slowly up his neck. “Then you don’t move until I tell you.”

“Yes.”

Lucy stood up, sliding one strap down her arm, then the other. Flynn had to keep himself from instinctively trying to reach for her, holding himself still like he’d promised.

The lingerie dropped to the floor.

Flynn had to swallow hard to hold back his moan. Fuck, she was gorgeous. She was always so gorgeous.

Lucy walked towards him again, undoing his belt, tapping Flynn’s leg for him to lift his hips.

He did, and she moved his pants down, reaching between his legs to take him in hand and rub him slowly. Flynn was already hard, already panting. He always wanted her, and having her so close, moving so sensually, first in that skimpy silk and now in nothing at all… he’d beg for her in a second if she’d let him.

Lucy sank down onto her knees, licking up his shaft, working her tongue underneath the foreskin, sucking lightly on the head for a moment before finally settling onto his lap.

She just ground against him at first, and he could feel how wet she was, he could imagine her thighs glistening with it, and it was so hard to stay still. But he managed it. He’d always manage it.

Lucy kissed him, delicate, barely-there kisses over his face. “Stay still,” she reminded him, and then she was slowly, incredibly slowly, sinking down on him.

Flynn couldn’t hold in his groan this time and Lucy smiled, pleased. She put her hands on his shoulders to balance herself, getting all the way onto him, bottoming out, and then holding still.

She tipped her head forward to rest their foreheads together. For a moment, it was just the two of them breathing. She was hot and tight around him and his legs were nearly shaking with the effort to hold still, everything in him desperate for her.

Lucy began to move, up and down, twisting her hips in that way that made Flynn’s breath stutter in his chest.

“You’d stay like this forever,” Lucy breathed, both stating a fact and commanding him. “If I told you to, you’d let me just use you, wouldn’t you.”

She kissed him, saving him from responding, but Flynn’s answer was in the way he kissed her, the way he nipped at her lip and slid his tongue across the roof of her mouth. Yes, always.

Lucy pulled back with a soft _pop_. “Go ahead,” she whispered. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Flynn pressed his feet down into the floor for leverage and did exactly that.

The dual relief of being able to move and the frustration of still being restrained was like a drug, going straight to his head. Lucy moaned, her head falling back as he thrust up hard into her, and he licked at her pulse point, fastening his lips to it and sucking hard. Creating the perfect bruise to mark her creamy, smooth skin.

It was a release like nothing else, knowing he was giving her what she wanted, being held back and set free at the same time, fire in his blood. She felt so perfect around him and on him, her hands and her skin, sweet like honey and sharp like whiskey.

Lucy kissed him again, hungry, her hands moving down his arms like Wyatt’s had earlier that night, only she was releasing him. “Touch me,” she ordered. “Touch me, fuck me, make me wake everyone up.”

He was on her in an instant, his hands roaming all over her, tugging, holding her almost so tightly he thought he’d bruise her, losing all sense of rhythm as he fucked up into her. He bit lightly at her neck and she cried out, making little _ah ah ah_ noises that slowly rose in pitch and volume.

“That—that’s it, Garcia, just like that,” she breathed in his ear, her hair sweet and dark and surrounding their faces, bracketing them in, his hands on her soft small body, all of that power and control contained in that fragile package, and he might be fucking her rough and hard but there was no question of who owned whom here.

He put his mouth on her neck, her breasts, everywhere he could reach, tasting her. Wrapped his arms around her and held her as he moved, still pretty much fully clothed while she was writhing naked on him, exposed and daring, demanding all that he could give and taking it gladly.

She kissed him one last time, clenching around him, shuddering, and his nails dug into her back as she came.

“Yes,” she told him, her voice hoarse. “Yes, you may.”

He spilled into her, mouthing at her neck, as she came down from her high.

Wyatt was definitely asleep when they tiptoed into bed about ten minutes later, Lucy giggly and punch-drunk.

“We are not waiting for another bet before doing that again,” she declared, uncaring when it made Wyatt’s eyes sleepily blink open to regard her for a moment before deciding that everything was fine and he slid back into slumber.

“Maybe,” Lucy went on, her voice lower, kissing Flynn as she pushed him down into the covers, “you can tie me up next time.”

He almost swallowed his tongue, but Lucy was already kissing Wyatt on the cheek and nuzzling her pillow happily.

Wherever Lucy led, though, he would be happy to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the bodysuit that Lucy wears, by the way: https://www.laperla.com/us/uscfilpd0020548-rs0290.html


	16. Breathless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extasiswings came up with the title, because my working title was "Wyatt and Flynn Are Messes." But to be fair, if I was really being honest with my titles, that's what every chapter would be called.

“Do you think I’m too… vanilla?” Wyatt asked.

He was lying propped up in bed, Lucy curled into his side with her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest so she could feel his heartbeat. He’d been trying to read a book but just couldn’t focus.

Lucy shifted a little. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean, you and Garcia always have to talk me into these things.” Flynn was in the shower at the moment. “And I know I end up enjoying them but I’m just not—you know.”

“No, I don’t know,” Lucy replied.

“I just mean, am I boring to you two?”

Lucy sat up straight, looking him right in the eye. “Sweetheart, what? No. Never.” She gently brushed her fingertips over his face. “Wyatt, we love you.”

“But I know you two—I’m not exactly begging to be tied up here.” Wyatt shrugged, trying to avoid her gaze. “And, I mean, I don’t know how many people you and Flynn have been with but definitely more than I have, before you guys it was just Jess. So…”

“So?” Lucy smiled gently. “You might not come up with ideas, but you go along with ours. You tell us what you do and don’t like. So what if your kinks are a little different than ours or what some people would call… less extreme. We still enjoy sex with you and we appreciate how willing you are to try new things and find out what you like.” She laughed. “Besides, it’s not like you’re insisting on missionary with the lights off.”

She leaned in, resting her forehead against his, her dark hair falling around them to create a kind of curtain, a cocoon of just them. “We don’t need you to suggest crazy things. We just want you to be honest when we ask if you want to try something. That’s all we need. We couldn’t possibly be bored by you.”

Wyatt exhaled, feeling that cold, hard lump of insecurity in his chest start to melt away. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Lucy pulled back, smiling, and settled against his chest.

 

* * *

 

It was about a week after that conversation that he called Jess.

“Wyatt. Darling. Love. Do you know what time it is?”

“Oh, time difference, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” He could hear rustling as Jess sat up in bed. “What’s up? Talk to me.”

“I shouldn’t have called.” Shame curled up inside of him like a plume of heavy smoke.

“No, you should have. What is it?”

Wyatt rubbed at his face. “Um. Do you remember… remember how I always wanted you on top?”

“Yeah.” Considering all the other ways their relationship was messed up, it probably wasn’t surprising that Jess was willing to talk about their former sex life out of the blue.

“Did you ever… think about that?”

The phone line filled with static as Jess sighed. “Do you want me to be honest?”

“Why else would I be calling?”

There was a pause, and then Jess spoke. “I thought it was you needing someone to be dominant over you, but you didn’t know how to ask. Asking me to be on top, pinning you down a little, was the closest you could get to it.”

“Okay.” That wasn’t surprising to him. It wasn’t the hard part. “So. Um. You remember there were… a few times… you put. You put your hand on my throat, that one time. And I…”

“Came like a rocket? Yeah, I definitely remember that.”

Wyatt could feel himself blushing so hard it felt like he had a fever when he touched his forehead. “Right. Did you have any theories about that?”

There was another pause, this one longer than before.

“I did,” Jess said at last. “But I think you do too, if you’re calling me suddenly to talk about it.”

“I guess I just wanted… confirmation.”

“What kind of confirmation?”

“That it’s because it’s something I want,” Wyatt admitted. “And not something that’s occurred to me just because I want to impress Lucy and Flynn.”

“Why would you need to have something kinky to impress them? Wyatt, they love you. They married you. I think your sex life, and your love life, are fine.”

“I just. I wonder. Sometimes. If they ever get tired of being the ones to come up with things.”

“Wyatt, sex is sex is sex. Even plain old woman-on-top can be exciting and good if you put your full attention into it. Our sex life could be called pretty vanilla, but it wasn’t ever boring. We were always compatible that way.”

“Okay but…” Wyatt took a deep breath. “Was I disappointing?”

“Oh Lord, I need alcohol for this.”

“Jess, it’s two in the morning.”

“And you’re calling me asking about erotic asphyxiation and if you bored me with our sex life.”

“Do you really have to put it like that?”

“Isn’t that what it is?”

Wyatt sighed, and he could hear Jess’s tone shifting even before she spoke. “I always knew that there were things you wanted that you didn’t know how to ask for. That you probably hadn’t even let yourself think about long enough to think of asking for them. And I know that in the end we weren’t what the other one really needed, because if we were still together, Wyatt, you wouldn’t even be thinking of talking to me about this. But you’re thinking of talking to them. You want to talk to them. I think that’s good.

“You might not see it but that’s a kind of confidence, just being able to say even to yourself, I want this. I think that, no matter how you say it, they’ll listen and they’ll understand. So just… I don’t know, find a time when you’re all together, and say hey, I want…”

“Right, yeah, I get it,” Wyatt blurted out, still feeling embarrassed.

“It’s okay to ask for what you want,” Jess told him gently. He heard her swallow.

“Did you just take a shot?”

“You’re damn right I did. Just talk to them, Wyatt, they’re your spouses, they put a damn ring on your finger. If you’d talked to me we might have had a chance to patch things up. Don’t repeat your mistakes. Love you.”

Then she hung up.

Most days when he talked to Jess, Wyatt was simultaneously grateful to her and annoyed and wondering why he’d ever married her.

This was definitely one of those days.

 

* * *

 

It took him another two weeks to say anything.

They were lying in bed. Flynn had his laptop off to the side, a history book on Oxford in his hands as he lay on his stomach, reading. He was tall enough that his feet dangled off the end of the bed. Lucy was lying on her back, her legs draped over Flynn’s ass and her head resting on Wyatt’s thigh. She was theoretically looking over some papers. In reality, dozing.

He couldn’t think of a way to say it that wasn’t jarring. It felt like something was twisting like a hot snake in his stomach. He didn’t want to call it shame, but he feared that’s what it was.

“Luce? Garcia?”

“Hmm?” Lucy hummed, waking up. She reached up and put her hand on his arm, her eyes still scrolling over the words on the pages.

Flynn nodded his head, indicating he was listening.

Wyatt took a deep breath. “So, what if I had… an idea… of something I wanted. For us to do. In the bedroom.”

Flynn’s head snapped up immediately. Lucy dropped her papers, scrambling to a sitting position.

“What is it?” she asked, eager.

Wyatt shifted uncomfortably. “It’s a little. Um. Extreme.”

“Trust me, Wyatt,” Flynn said. “Whatever you’re going to say, it’s not going to shock us. Unless it’s like. Animal play or something.”

“Unless it’s _what_?”

“Meow,” Lucy said in a deadpan tone.

“I think that means no,” Flynn whispered.

“I promise, it is nothing anywhere near that,” Wyatt replied.

“Good,” Lucy said lightly. “Although you would look pretty in a collar.”

Wyatt pointed at Flynn. “Do not even _think_ of googling that!”

Flynn very slowly set the laptop down.

“What is it then?” Lucy asked.

 _Just tell them_ , Jess had said. He wondered if he should have gotten her to do this for him.

“I want to be choked,” he blurted out.

Flynn looked like _he_ was choking.

Lucy tilted her head to the side, that thoughtful, considering expression on her face. “Is this a new thought?”

“I’ve always…” Wyatt though back to the time Jess had slid her hand over his throat. There hadn’t even been any squeezing—she’d lost her balance and the place her hand had touched down happened to be his throat. But the feeling of her hand there, the pressure, had been enough. “For years, anyway. But I never let myself think about it.”

He hadn’t let himself think about a lot of things.

Lucy pursed her lips. Flynn looked like the personification of the blue screen on a computer. “And how would you want it done?”

Flynn gave Lucy a look, like Wyatt had said he wanted to murder someone and Lucy was going along with it. Wyatt was—not even startled, more than that—slowly set off-balance. Flynn was the adventurous one. Flynn was the one who was up for anything. He preferred Lucy to be in charge, always deferred to her, but he’d take control if it was what she demanded of him. He’d try whatever was suggested.

And now he was looking like he was having a brain glitch.

Wyatt hadn’t thought about it, but he realized in that moment that he’d always known how it was going to be. It was how their dynamic went. Lucy owned him with softness, with gentle commands and light teasing. Flynn owned him with rough hands and rough words, the kind of way that Wyatt had once hated himself for wanting.

But how could he say that now with Flynn trying to remember how to breathe?

Lucy’s eyes were on him, though. And he’d never been able to keep himself from telling her anything.

“I want Flynn to do it,” he admitted. “You—I want you there. But I want… him.”

Flynn stared at him for a moment, then looked at Lucy.

“I can definitely work with that,” she said.

“You can?” Flynn croaked. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? This is one of—even people who do BDSM have a lot of opinions on this, do you know people can die from this?”

“People can also die skydiving,” Lucy replied dryly. “And last I checked our lives weren’t exactly what you’d call safe.”

Wyatt shoved down the shame sliding its way up his chest. “You said it wasn’t going to shock you.”

“It’s not—it doesn’t—” Flynn made an aborted gesture and then spat something in frustrated Croatian. Not like he was angry, more like it was one of those rare moments where his knowledge of English failed him.

“What’s your problem with it?” Lucy asked, her voice gentle and soothing.

Flynn shook his head.

Wyatt had heard enough. He got up, despite Lucy’s protests, and left the room.

 

* * *

 

“Well, well, Mr. Garcia Flynn himself, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m not in the mood, Jessica.”

“When are you ever. What can I do for you?”

“Ah. So. You and Wyatt. When you were married. Did you two ever…”

“Oh my God, he told you about the choking thing didn’t he.”

“So you two did do it.”

“No, but I figured out by accident that he wanted it.” Flynn could hear Jess sighing in fond exasperation. “Wyatt’s not good with communication. As I’m sure you’ve figured out. Especially because he puts people in boxes. That’s what messed him and me up, or part of it anyway, he put me on a pedestal. Did the same to Lucy, so he couldn’t handle at first when she started her whole…”

“Rufus calls it her Sarah Connor thing.”

“Right. That. The point is, Flynn, he puts people in boxes. Including himself. He put himself in the box of what he thought a man should be, what his father and the rest of his world had taught him a man should be, and he refused to let himself out of that box until he met you and Lucy.”

“I can’t hurt him, Jess.”

The words flew out of him without his permission but they were true. They’d been the only thing he’d thought about once he’d managed to soak in the fact that Wyatt wanted Flynn to _choke him_. He’d had this image of gripping too tightly, of losing his concentration and hurting—

And the terrible thing was, a part of him liked the idea. He’d always liked pushing Wyatt’s limits, getting Wyatt to submit, watching Wyatt fall apart. And this, this was complete submission, this was Wyatt at his mercy, and God help him but it appealed.

But he couldn’t hurt him. He wanted it but he hated himself for wanting it because he would not, ever, hurt either of the people that he loved.

He’d said as much to Lucy one time, before all three of them had gotten together, when she’d been running away from her feelings and constantly wanted it rough, and he’d been afraid she’d start asking for things he couldn’t give her.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he’d told her. “And I don’t mean spanking or the occasional bite, don’t give me that look. I won’t hit you with anything, I won’t do—any of that, sort of thing, Lucy, so please don’t ask it of me.”

The very idea of hurting her, even at her request, made him sick. He just couldn’t do that to someone he loved. He wasn’t that kind of person, but especially not when he’d seen the real thing.

But with Wyatt it was a little less cut and dried. If Lucy had asked him to choke her he would have said no point blank, immediately. Hard limit. But with Wyatt, if he did it right, it wouldn’t hurt. And he wouldn’t, couldn’t hurt Wyatt, but he did want to control him sometimes, feel that faith that Wyatt placed in him, get Wyatt to that place where he wasn’t chasing his thoughts around like rats in a cage for once, all hotheaded reckless energy…

He couldn’t hurt him.

But what if he didn’t?

“I know you can’t,” Jess said. “You’re not that type of man. And I’m not that type of woman. I would’ve done it if he’d asked me. Because I think—and if you tell him I analyzed him like this I’m denying it—he really needs that release. A lot more than most of us do.”

Flynn definitely knew that need. He had it, sometimes, and got it with Lucy, who was always happy to instruct and deny and control until it was all drained out of him and he was no longer wound corkscrew tight.

“And this shows how much he trusts you, doesn’t it?” Flynn heard something clanking in the background as Jess spoke and he guessed she was cooking. “And that he trusts himself enough to have said it out loud. He loves you enough to have put this on the line and for better or for worse that’s more than he did with me.”

Flynn hadn’t considered that. Wyatt had never asked for anything, always going along with whatever Lucy and Flynn came up with, never demanding in his turn. Finally he did, and Flynn freaked out on him.

Probably not his finest moment.

“Anyway, why are you talking to me about this?” Jess concluded. “No, I never choked Wyatt, yes, I knew he wanted it, no, I don’t think you’ll hurt him, yes, I never want to talk about this again. Good? Good. Bye!”

Then she hung up.

It was moments like this where Jess reminded Flynn disconcertingly of himself and he realized, for all of Wyatt’s protesting, exactly why Wyatt had fallen in love with first Jess and now Flynn and Lucy.

Flynn set down the phone. He really should talk to his spouses.

 

* * *

 

Lucy got to both of them first. “Oh, good, you’re here.”

“Denise said we had a meeting?” Wyatt asked, because Wyatt was still too trusting.

“We’ve been had, _Schneke_ ,” Flynn said, using the nickname that would’ve gotten him kidney punched if anyone else had been around to hear it.

But there was nobody else around. It just Lucy and her laptop open on a PowerPoint presentation entitled,

WE ARE TALKING ABOUT THIS LIKE ADULTS

Flynn pointed at the computer screen. “The title’s a little on the nose.”

“Moments like these I don’t know why I sleep with you,” Wyatt muttered to Flynn, sitting down.

“Moments like this, I understand exactly why I sleep with you,” Lucy said to both of them. “And it pains me.”

She hit the button to take them to the next slide. It read: DID EITHER OF YOU DO RESEARCH

Flynn looked guiltily at Wyatt, who looked like the kid in class who hadn’t read the assigned book and had just been called on by the teacher to talk about it.

Lucy folded her arms. “I did. On this amazing thing called the internet. While you two were freaking out. Do you know how many drunk texts I’ve gotten from Jess about this?”

“Sorry,” Wyatt mumbled.

“Actually it was Flynn calling her that started the texting.”

Flynn shot Lucy a betrayed look while Wyatt whipped his head around. “You called Jess?”

“I had some questions!”

“And why couldn’t you ask me?”

Flynn didn’t have an answer to that one.

“Here, let me answer that for you,” Wyatt snarked. “You wanted to find a good way to say I was stupid for even asking.”

“What? No.”

“Then why did you freak out?”

“Because I’d prefer not to strangle my husband to death, thanks!”

“Which is why research is so important,” Lucy said in her _I’m the teacher so you’re going to listen to me_ voice.

They both turned to look at her.

Lucy sighed. “Okay, look. Yes, this is sort of a hot button topic in the kink community. Yes, if not done properly you can hurt them. But allow me to remind you both that we get shot at on a regular basis so.”

“It’s different,” Flynn growled.

“Do you want to do it and you’re just scared of hurting Wyatt?” Lucy asked. “Or do you not want it and you’re just using safety as an excuse? There’s a big difference, Garcia.”

Flynn could feel Wyatt’s big puppy eyes on him even if he wasn’t going to give in by turning his head to see them. He swallowed around his suddenly-dry throat. A part of him still… wasn’t okay, with the fact that he wanted this. Worried that this was too much, too dark of a place to go, that it was a sign of something. But…

“I think I’d like to try it,” Flynn admitted. “If it was you, Lucy, I’m sorry, I couldn’t. I’m still not sure if I can, here, but… part of me wants to try.”

He heard Wyatt slowly release his breath.

“Okay.” Lucy clicked onto the next slide, which showed a diagram of the human neck, including windpipe and arteries. “So, we’re going to learn how to do this properly, including the risks involved. And if you both are still okay with trying this, we’re going to try it. And I’ll be there the whole time. I’ll be in charge. Does that help?”

Both Wyatt and Flynn nodded.

Lucy heaved a sigh of relief. “Okay. So. The goal is to apply gentle pressure for a couple of seconds to the carotid artery…”

And of course that was the moment Mason had to walk in.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt was brushing his teeth when Lucy wrapped her arms around him from behind. It was adorable, the height difference this way, although not quite as adorable as when he saw her do it to Flynn.

She kissed his shoulder. “You okay?”

Wyatt shrugged. “Good to know he doesn’t think I’m sick in the head.”

Lucy sighed. “Why are you two always so determined to think the worst of yourselves? Or to think that the other one thinks the worst of you? I know he likes to pretend that he’s got it all under control, just like you do, but he’s not that domineering force that he projects to the bad guys and you know it. He just wants to make sure this isn’t you… running against the electric fence because you have to make sure what your limits are, now that you know how to test them. Make sense?”

“That just made me think of Jurassic Park.”

“You’re hopeless.” Lucy smiled at him through the mirror. “But you understand?”

Wyatt nodded. “I know I’m reckless. But not… not about things like this.” If anything he felt timid, shy, the nerdy introvert at the nightclub.

Lucy tightened her hold on him, squeezing for a moment before letting go. “I know, sweetheart. And that’s why I’m here too. I’m in charge. And you both trust me, right?”

Wyatt nodded. Lucy would keep her head no matter what happened.

“Good.” She stepped back, trailing her fingers down his arm. “See you shortly.”

 

* * *

 

Flynn knew exactly what Lucy was doing when she walked into the room and started kissing him. “You’re trying to distract me.”

“Are you complaining?” Lucy replied.

Flynn got his hands under her thighs so that he could lift her up and carry her over to the bed, sitting down so that she was straddling his lap. “Never.”

Lucy kissed him slow, deep, the kind where she wasn’t going to let him speed it up or focus on anything other than the sensation of the two of them being together, entangled.

He heard Wyatt enter, and focused on breathing normally. This first part was normal. This first part was how they always did things—he knew this like he knew the back of his hand.

He knew how to let Lucy move to the side so that he could kiss Wyatt in that fierce, messy way that had Wyatt groaning into his mouth. He knew how to help pass Lucy onto Wyatt and slide down between her legs, licking into her and making her finally, after much stubbornness, give in and cry out as she came. He knew how to move his hand between Wyatt’s legs and get him to beg for it, while Lucy wrapped Wyatt’s fingers around the metal rails of the headboard and told him to keep them there.

And then came the part that he didn’t know.

All of the things Lucy had gone over with them were flying through his head. Maintain eye contact. Use the palm of your hand to act as a barrier to the windpipe. The safe signal was Wyatt releasing the rail and making a V sign with his index and middle finger, since he probably wouldn’t be able to speak to use the safe word.

But none of that preparation was the same as being in the moment, seated between Wyatt’s legs, staring down at him.

 _Start slow_ , Lucy had told him. He could feel her eyes on him now, on them both, still in control.

Flynn slid his hand up from Wyatt’s chest to his throat. Not applying any pressure. Not even making the gesture. He just sort of… trailed his fingertips over the fluttering skin there.

He could feel Wyatt’s pulse, hammering with anticipation. He could see when Wyatt swallowed, when he breathed. He stroked two fingers over the pulse point, not really trying to tease, just… getting himself acquainted.

He couldn’t stop staring at that exposed column of skin. Wondering—realizing he wanted to know—what it would look like to have his hand there. If maybe there’d be the faintest of bruises, like when one of them gave Wyatt a hickey only…

Wyatt made a desperate little noise that Flynn recognized, after months and months of sleeping with him, as the sound Wyatt made when he was turned on and being teased. When he was starting to get ready to beg for it.

Flynn’s instinct to control took over and he took Wyatt’s jaw in his hand, angling it to the side, exposing Wyatt’s neck that much further and forcing Wyatt’s eyes up to his.

He looked for any sign of fear, of second-guessing. But there was nothing but Wyatt’s dark, wide pupils, the blue irises a fiery rim around them. Nothing but silent desire.

Lucy’s hand slid up the back of his shoulder. “Go on,” she ordered, her voice a soft but compelling whisper.

Flynn entered Wyatt at the same moment that he moved his hand down to wrap around his throat.

Wyatt let out an eager whine and Flynn, almost without thinking, squeezed gently for a second before relaxing his grip.

The look in Wyatt’s eyes—it was like someone had drugged him, almost. In a good way.

Flynn shifted his hips, nudging up against Wyatt’s prostate, and squeezed again. _One Mississippi, two Mississippi_. Release.

The way that Wyatt reacted, his entire body shuddering and pressing _into_ the touch instead of _away_ from it… and as always, the way he just gave himself over to Flynn—trusted him—let Flynn just slowly wreck him like this…

Okay. He was definitely starting to get on board with this.

He started thrusting slowly, trying to maintain a careful rhythm. He pressed down with his thumb about once every thirty seconds, and each time Wyatt reacted. He was already shivering in a way that usually took a lot longer, small desperate noises escaping him when Flynn wasn’t squeezing.

Lucy’s hand on Flynn’s shoulder squeezed once. “Stop.”

Flynn stuttered to a halt, panting, his heart freezing for a moment as he panicked, wondered what he’d done wrong.

Then Lucy reached over, skimming her finger over where Flynn’s hand was wrapped around Wyatt. Wyatt shuddered, staring up at her, biting his lip hard.

“What do you want?” Lucy asked him. Flynn let up the pressure even more until his hand was just barely touching Wyatt’s skin. “Do you want him to fuck you harder?”

Flynn could feel Wyatt swallow against his hand and now he was the one shuddering. Fuck. He had not expected to like this so much.

Wyatt started to nod, but Lucy shook her head. “I want to hear you say it. You can’t be afraid to ask for what you want, okay sweetheart? Go ahead.”

Flynn knew she wasn’t talking about just now. That she was talking about how much courage it must have taken Wyatt to admit he wanted this at all—and Flynn had nearly screwed it up.

Wyatt inhaled deeply, then turned to lock eyes with Flynn. “I want you to fuck me. Hard. The way you know I like.”

Lucy’s hand was back on his shoulder, rubbing a small, encouraging circle of warmth.

Flynn shifted his grip on Wyatt’s neck, used it to lift his head up and kiss him. It changed the angle of his cock inside of Wyatt and Wyatt groaned into his mouth.

Flynn pulled back, resettling, running his thumb lightly over Wyatt’s pulse. Kept that eye contact.

He didn’t squeeze or really apply much pressure once he started moving again. He was snapping his hips hard, fast, and not really caring too much about rhythm. He didn’t trust himself not to be too rough right now. But his hand stayed at Wyatt’s throat and that seemed to be all that Wyatt needed now, that firm feeling, and when he came without a sound it wasn’t because he was being strangled but because he was too lost in the climax to make any noise.

The whole time, Flynn couldn’t stop flicking his gaze down to Wyatt’s neck, to his hand there, holding Wyatt down, holding Wyatt’s life, in a way, in his hand.

It was what he was staring at when he came.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt didn’t think he was ever going to move again and he was okay with that.

Holy. Shit.

He’d known, from the moment that Flynn had stroked his finger along his throat, that he was going to like this. He was going to like this a hell of a lot more than he’d thought he would.

Flynn might or might not have been meaning to tease. Wyatt couldn’t tell with Flynn sometimes. But that was sure what it felt like. Flynn’s fingertips mapping out the hollow of his throat, his pulse, the curve of his neck. Taking his sweet time in figuring out exactly where to lay his hand.

Wyatt had been practically vibrating with anticipation by the time Flynn actually got around to applying any pressure.

Fuck, he’d nearly even come just from the first squeeze of Flynn’s hand.

He didn’t know what Flynn saw, gazing down at him, but Wyatt’s view had been pretty damn fantastic. Flynn had been staring down at him hungrily, his gaze dark, his jaw set in that way it got when he was concentrating and in control. All of that focus, directed straight at Wyatt.

Every time Flynn had applied that pressure it was like a rush straight to his dick. The combination of instinctive danger and of knowing that Flynn wouldn’t ever really hurt him, that Flynn would take care of him—it had made his head spin in the best kind of way. Like fireworks were snapping off inside of his brain.

He didn’t know which he’d liked more: the brief seconds of breathlessness or the moment of release after. Or even the anticipation, not knowing when Flynn would squeeze next.

Basically all of it had been amazing.

He’d come so hard he’d lost his vision for a second, and by that point Flynn wasn’t even squeezing anymore, just had his hand on Wyatt’s throat and was holding it there, a gentle weight.

But god damn.

Lucy was humming, cleaning them up, praising them both. “You okay?” Wyatt croaked at her.

She had, after all, only gotten eaten out before having to play referee to that whole deal.

Lucy snorted. “Are you kidding me? That was hot as fuck, I got myself off watching you two. Although I didn’t think either of you noticed.”

Nope, Wyatt had definitely not noticed that.

He rolled his head to the side to see Flynn. “Hey… Garcia?”

“Don’t try to talk too much,” Lucy instructed, making Wyatt drink some water before exiting the room to get… something. Wyatt wasn’t sure.

Flynn reached over, his hand cupping Wyatt’s cheek. “Hmm?”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you that I trusted you. I should’ve… kept in mind what you needed, too.”

Flynn smiled at him. “You’re good. I should’ve thought more about how hard this was for you to own up to wanting.”

“We don’t ever have to do it again,” Wyatt blurted out. It had been fantastic and he wanted to do it again, someday, but if Flynn still was against it…

Flynn licked his lips, a sign of nervousness and not, as Wyatt had first thought, a sign he was trying to drive all red-blooded people in his vicinity insane. “What if I wanted to do it again? Sometime?”

Wyatt was smiling before he even realized that he was relieved, his face revealing it before his brain could catch up.

Lucy came back in to find them making out. “For crying out loud, you two are supposed to be _resting_ , the only thing I want in your mouths right now is water, you impossible men.”


	17. All Tied Up

Wyatt looked over at Flynn, who was staring at his laptop like it was informing him of an approaching nuclear bomb. “You’re brain glitching again.”

Flynn snapped the laptop shut quickly. “I’m not.”

Wyatt rolled over on the bed to look. “What are you researching?”

Flynn glared at him.

Wyatt unleashed the puppy eyes.

Flynn sighed and opened up the laptop. “Lucy wants me to tie her up.”

“You’ve done that before,” Wyatt said. “Isn’t that your thing together?”

“Handcuffs, yes. Actual ropes and stuff? No. We’ve never… done that, no. She’s done it to me, we have the supplies but not…”

“You’re worried about being in charge,” Wyatt guessed.

Flynn glared at him. Wyatt gave him a tiny smirk. Flynn rolled his eyes and showed him the laptop screen.

“I don’t understand,” Wyatt said, not accusing, just curious. “You have no problem taking control with me.”

“Do _you_ want to try taking control of Lucy?” Flynn replied.

Wyatt’s face said it all.

“That’s what I thought,” Flynn said, a trifle smugly.

“What are you two up to?” Lucy asked.

Flynn slammed the laptop shut again and Wyatt jumped so hard he nearly fell off the bed.

Lucy smirked, folding her arms. “I’m going to take it you’re up to something you shouldn’t be.”

“Not something we shouldn’t be,” Wyatt said quickly. “I’m going to… brush my teeth.”

He ignored the glare of betrayal that Flynn shot him and hurried out of the room, pausing only to kiss Lucy’s cheek.

“The bathroom’s in the other direction,” Lucy noted.

Wyatt was already gone.

Lucy sighed and came to sit down next to Flynn, who silently passed her the laptop. “It’s been a while since I did any knots, really. I thought you could pick out the ones you wanted.”

Lucy smiled at him, leaning into to rest her chin on his shoulder. “You’re nervous.”

Flynn considered lying, then thought better of it. “A little.”

“You know you’re doing this for me as a service?” Lucy said softly. “You’re serving me. You just have to think of it that way.”

“I want to do it,” Flynn replied. “It’s just been a long time since I took on that kind of role. Even if I’m still… technically being submissive, in a way.”

“I know you’ll do exactly what I want you to,” Lucy replied. She slid her hand into his, intertwining their fingers and squeezing gently. “You always take care of me.”

If he was being completely honest with himself, Flynn still didn’t know if he deserved Lucy’s faith in him. But he was addicted to it all the same, would do anything to earn it. And when she said things like that, her voice soft and earnest but firm, unyielding in its conviction, he couldn’t stop himself from turning to her and kissing her softly.

“Started without me, huh?” Wyatt asked, walking back in and climbing into bed.

Flynn rolled his eyes at him, turning and brushing his mouth against Wyatt’s. “You’re the one who decided to leave the room.”

“But I need to take a shower, thought you guys might want to join me.”

Lucy was up like a shot. “Race you.”

It wasn’t until much, much later, when Wyatt with still-damp hair was sleepily scrolling through his phone and Lucy was using her phone’s camera to examine the new hickey on her collarbone, that it got brought up again.

“Two days from now?” she suggested.

Flynn nodded. “That’ll work.”

“I’ll make myself scarce,” Wyatt mumbled, putting his phone away and giving into the urge to slide under the covers.

Two days. Flynn breathed slowly. He could do this. It was giving Lucy what she wanted and he was always happy to do that.

He just hoped that he would succeed in it.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt made himself scarce two days later by playing Star Wars the Old Republic with Rufus (while Jiya made her mandatory sarcastic comments in the background).

Lucy’s breath caught in her throat as Flynn laid the ropes out on the bed. Wyatt was the impatient type, but she found a special kind of pleasure in the anticipation, the shivery bated moment just before, when she was caught on the precipice.

Flynn kissed her slowly, deeply, and for once she was grateful for the crappy bunker mattresses that were firm enough for her to stand on, making it easier for Flynn to slowly strip her of her clothes. He stayed dressed, wearing that black sweater she loved and a pair of jeans. Certainly not what one would call fetish gear. But the dark colors, the somber yet relaxed style of it, compared to her impending nakedness made her shiver.

He kissed every inch of her, his mouth trailing slowly down her shoulder as he slid down her straps, his hands skimming along her breasts. She got onto her knees and let him turn her around slowly, so that her back was to him, and then she felt him hesitate.

Waiting, as always, for her consent.

“Go ahead,” she told him.

Immediately, his hands moved around to take her wrists gently and guide them to cross behind her back. A moment later she felt the rope slither along the small of her back, twining around her wrists.

Then it moved up her arms a little, around her waist, pulling her arms back just a bit, just until she could feel the tension. The rope around her body didn’t really bind her _to_ anything. But having it wrapped around her skin, heavy and taught, was reassuring. It grounded her. It felt like it was what held her together, instead of her skin and bones and muscles holding herself together on its own.

She felt Flynn tie off the knot, tugging lightly to test it. “You good?” he asked.

Lucy nodded. “Good.”

Then came the final part.

Flynn had to be convinced about this part because he didn’t like that Lucy couldn’t speak the safe word if she needed to, but he could see her hands and she’d make a V with her index and middle finger instead if she needed him to stop. She’d always liked the idea of holding her sounds in, keeping quiet, of whoever it was really earning any sound that she made.

And there was a special little thrill in the idea of making noise that was forcibly muffled.

Maybe she was a tiny bit of a masochist for it, but that was far down the list of Reasons Lucy Needed Therapy. She’d tackle some of her occasional sexual quirks when she was finished dumping to her shrink about her family issues.

Flynn put the gag on her from behind: one of his ties, that she’d picked out just for this. She couldn’t see herself, but she knew she looked good in dark red.

Maybe someday she could persuade Flynn to take a picture.

Flynn’s fingers slid along her palm and he brushed his lips against her temple. “Still good?”

Lucy nodded, her fingers tapping against his palm three times. _Good_.

Flynn brushed her hair to one side, away from her neck so that he could flick his tongue along the skin there before pressing one soft, open mouthed kiss there after another. His hands moved up along the outside of her legs, one settling low on her stomach while the other moved up to cradle her jaw, tilting her head back and up until her throat was entirely bared to his mouth.

Lucy’s eyes fluttered as he nipped at her pulse point. It drove her insane, but she loved this slow tease, the deliberate way that he touched her.

She shivered as her body instinctively flexed and arched in response to his touches, only to find that she was restricted. She moaned a little, the sound muffled by the gag, and that only made another rush of heat shoot through her.

It was different from when their positions were reversed. She gave orders then. Told him what to do, did what she pleased. Here she might be the one restrained, but Flynn was still doing what she had asked of him, serving her rather than simply taking what he wanted.

His hand moved up from her stomach to her breast, circling a teasing finger around her nipple before pinching lightly. His hand at her jaw let go, moving around to grip her hair instead, yanking her head slowly back, forcing her body to arch, to be exposed. Lucy bit down hard on her lip, almost shaking. Wyatt had been the one to figure out she liked having her hair pulled but both men had taken advantage of it since, and now Flynn’s grip meant she couldn’t really move without hurting herself.

Not that she wanted to move but the thrill of it was enough to have her panting. She wanted Flynn between her legs, wanted him to touch here. She could feel herself starting to get wet enough that it was sliding down her thighs and she wanted, she wanted so badly…

But Flynn ignored that and just kept kissing her all over, his hands sliding all over her body except for there, touching her breasts, tugging at her hair a little every so often, making a small gasp escape her.

Flynn moved around her, an arm at her waist to turn her, one hand still in her hair as he bent his head down and sucked her breast into his mouth. Lucy moaned, and saw Flynn shiver a little in response. He would never admit it to her—or at least not without a great deal of persuasion—but he liked the muffled sound from the gag just as much as she did.

She wanted to beg and couldn’t, his teeth and tongue moving over her breasts, knowing just how to drive her insane after so many months of getting to touch her, and she whined high in the back of her throat.

Flynn finally pulled away, moving behind her again, his arms coming around her waist and pulling her fully back against him. She could feel how hard he was, straining against his jeans, and she shivered. She wanted him inside of her, but not yet. Not quite yet.

Instead, he kissed her neck, and she could feel him smiling against her skin. His hand moved achingly slowly down to feel how wet she was. “You want me to touch you?” he asked, his voice dark and rough in that way that she loved.

Lucy nodded, her eyes falling shut as Flynn finally, _finally_ began to sink a finger inside of her. A gag and a blindfold was a little much but maybe they ought to try using a blindfold on Wyatt, his gaze was always darting around wildly when they had sex, it would be interesting… to see… how—how he handled—

And then all thoughts flew out of her head as Flynn’s thumb began to rub against her clit. His finger, moving slowly in and out of her, began to speed up. He added a second finger and—and fuck, he wasn’t fucking around. She knew by now when Flynn was teasing and when he was on a mission and right now he was determined, moving quick and sure, her hips trying to thrust against his fingers and she couldn’t she was held back and oh, oh God oh _fuck_ —

She couldn’t even identify the sounds she was making through the gag as she shuddered in Flynn’s arms, her legs sliding open as she sank down further, her body feeling boneless.

Flynn kissed along her jaw, his teeth scraping over the lobe of her ear. She turned her cheek, nuzzling against him, indicating that she wanted to kiss him.

Flynn reached up and carefully undid the gag, letting it fall to the side. She wanted to surge forward but his hand came up into her hair again, holding her in place, as he nipped lightly at her mouth, then kissed just the corner of it, his tongue flicking out over her lips before he finally kissed her properly. She moaned around his tongue, sucking him in, greedy.

When he pulled back, she looked him dead in the eye.

Flynn’s eyes were so dark they looked black. His chest was heaving a little, and she knew that he was just as desperate as she was, confined in his own way. He hadn’t touched himself at all, hadn’t gotten any relief while he took care of her, and she could see in the tight lines of his face how much he wanted her, how much he needed to let go.

She let her gaze flick down, slide over him. Damn, he was handsome, even in just jeans and a dark sweater. She was tempted to order him to strip—a shirtless Flynn was a sight to behold, and usually guaranteed to make Wyatt drop whatever he was holding (several shattered plates had given their lives in service)—but she liked the idea of him being fully clothed while she was naked and bound.

She met his eyes again. “Fuck me.”

Flynn swallowed. She saw his eyes go a little wide and his lips part, looking absolutely floored the way he always did when she ordered him to do something like that. Lucy didn’t know what she’d done to earn a man who acted like every time she asked him to fuck her it was a surprise he didn’t think he quite deserved, but it must have been something fantastic.

He kissed her again, her eyes sliding closed, and she shivered as she heard the sound of his pants coming undone. _Fuck me_ , she wanted to plead against his mouth. _Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please—_

And then he was turning her around, pressing her down with his hand tangled in her hair, sliding inside of her, and she couldn’t have stopped the strangled moan that leaked out of her if she’d tried. Flynn’s arm was a band of iron around her waist, his hand dipping between her legs again and rubbing at her clit as he started to thrust into her slowly. She knew Flynn could have taken more time and would have if he’d had his way, but she didn’t want that and he knew it. She wanted him to move hard and fast, and he was giving it to her just like that.

His hand tightened in her hair, forcing her head back a little. She couldn’t brace herself, couldn’t touch him, either just for the pleasure of it or to hold on. She had to put her trust in him to keep her, hold her, and for a moment she almost wanted to scream it from the rooftops because she hadn’t thought she’d ever get that again, reach that level of trust with anyone again.

Flynn’s mouth was right by her ear so that she could hear every harsh breath, every startled noise as he felt her shiver with pleasure, felt intimately just how much she loved this. She strained a little against the ropes, just to feel them hold her in place, thrust her hips back and forward, caught in between Flynn’s fingers and his cock, she felt trapped in absolutely the best way, found herself begging for more, harder, faster…

Her mouth dropped open on a moan as she shuddered again, her legs seizing up a bit with the force of the orgasm ripping through her. She dimly felt Flynn coming inside of her, hummed at the thought of how she must look: naked, tied, her slick and his coating her thighs, Flynn fully clothed behind her, dominating her.

Oh God, she was definitely going to have to get Wyatt to be there and take some pictures next time. For a suitable reward, of course.

Flynn slowly pulled out of her, and then she was hauled back up onto her knees. His hands worked quickly and smoothly to undo the ropes. She felt limp, like a rag doll, and she wanted nothing more than to let him take care of her.

When the rope finally slid free, she was turned around and automatically looped her arms around Flynn’s neck as he slid his hands over her, checking to make sure the rope hadn’t cut into her or bruised her.

“You did good,” she assured him in a murmur as he checked her wrists. She yawned. “You did really good.”

Flynn cleaned her up and helped her get into a bathrobe, picking her up and carrying her out into the living room. Rufus and Jiya were quietly talking in the kitchen as they ate a package of Chocodiles, and Wyatt was already on the couch, queuing up _Charade_.

“Good choice,” Lucy murmured as she was passed over to Wyatt so Flynn could go and change into pajamas. She settled into Wyatt’s arms, and he joined them a few minutes later, draping his arm over their shoulders.

Lucy lolled her head back to smile up at Flynn. “You were amazing. We should do that again.”

He gave her a soft smile. Wyatt rolled his eyes and muttered something about ‘my weird spouses with their weird bondage fetishes’.

“That reminds me,” Lucy said, perking up. She looked at Wyatt. “How do you feel about blindfolds?”

Over in the kitchen, Rufus started choking on his Chocodile.


	18. Count 'Em

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I wrote all this out of spite during my family reunion.

Lucy’s head fell back onto Flynn’s shoulder, trying and failing to move her hips. His hands at her hips kept her firmly still, while Wyatt’s hands at her thighs kept them spread. She moaned as Wyatt licked into her, finally, after what felt like hours of teasing her.

She sank a hand into his hair, moaning as he sucked on her clit. Oh, fuck, _fuck_. She’d already come once from Flynn’s fingers, long and dexterous, sinking into her and fucking her until she had shuddered apart with a sob, trapped in between Flynn from behind and Wyatt in front so that she hadn’t even been able to move properly, could only sink her teeth into Wyatt’s shoulder and take it.

Now Wyatt was twisting his tongue into her and not even stopping to breathe and she could almost feel her brain leaking out.

“This was your idea,” Flynn murmured in her ear. Teasing her. The _we can stop if you want_ went unsaid, but Lucy heard it anyway.

No way. She’d bet that she could take as many orgasms as they threw at her and she was not backing down from that, no way no how.

Wyatt scraped his teeth lightly over her clit and she gasped, tightening her hands in his hair. Now that the teasing was over Wyatt wasn’t wasting time, fucking his tongue in and out of her as she was held still by Flynn, unable to do anything but take it. She could feel the pressure building up behind her eyes, between her legs, and she let go of Wyatt’s hair to just start grabbing at Flynn, at Wyatt, at the bedspread, anything, as Wyatt swirled his tongue in just the right way to make her entire spine liquify.

“Oh God,” she gasped, as Flynn nipped at her throat. “Fuck, oh my fucking God—”

Wyatt sealed his mouth over her clit and sucked hard, and she tumbled over the precipice, hips jerking, orgasm washing through her.

“Holy shit,” Wyatt murmured, pulling back and wiping off his mouth with a smirk.

“One of you had better get inside of me,” Lucy said, too breathless to sound as authoritative as she’d have liked, “or I swear—”

Wyatt kissed her then, so that the rest of her sentence was yelled into his mouth as she felt Flynn move away from her back. Wyatt’s fingers fluttered teasingly down between her legs for a moment before he pulled away and was turning her to Flynn, helping her onto him. She sank down as Flynn thrust up, oversensitive and not caring, just wanting that sensation of being pushed to her limit.

It was times like these that she was struck by how well they had learned to work together, to fit together, instinctively reading one another and balancing one another out, moving without thinking or having to stop and ask (as they’d often had to do in the first few weeks of sleeping with one another).

She slid her hands up Flynn’s chest, his hands sliding up her legs, his thumbs stroking softly as she circled her hips. She bit her lip, already feeling her legs trembling, her chest heaving, two orgasms in the span of twenty minutes tiring her out.

But she’d said she could do this, and she would—and she genuinely liked having a cock inside of her. There was a reason her college girlfriend had invested in strap ons.

Lucy started to move, which goaded Flynn into moving as well, his eyes glazed and dark as he stared at her. She was convinced that she would never get over the rush she felt when she saw how her men stared at her during sex, the way they looked like they’d been gut punched and were seeing her for the first time.

She could hear Wyatt’s harsh breathing as he watched them, and an extra thrill shot through her to know that he was watching them, that he was getting off on this too. She bent over to kiss Flynn properly, to scrape her teeth over his neck, raking her nails down his chest when he thrust up into her and found that perfect angle, the one that made her shiver uncontrollably. He was giving her no mercy this time, no teasing, just taking the edge of her old orgasm and chasing it, fucking her at that perfect angle until she was biting hard into the meat of Flynn’s shoulder to try and muffle the scream she was letting out, everything going white.

Oh, what she wouldn’t give to live in a house instead of this place, to be where she could be as loud as the hell she wanted and damn if the neighbors heard. She felt Flynn coming as well, loved the feeling of his slick sliding down her legs, grateful as hell that they’d decided to start foregoing condoms (after a very, very long talk about how her IUD was fine, boys, stop freaking out, there would be no surprise pregnancies).

Flynn sat up, both of their chests heaving. She moaned as Flynn slid out of her, feeling empty and oversensitive, her body shaking with what Flynn had fondly dubbed ‘aftershocks’.

Three orgasms were definitely something she’d had before—byproduct of getting fucked twice in a night by men who actually knew what they were doing—but rarely in such rapid succession. She felt like her fingertips weren’t quite solid, like she was vibrating ever so slightly out of existence.

Flynn kissed her deeply, soothingly, and it took her a minute to realize that he was doing it to regulate her breathing, to slow down her racing heart. Once she no longer felt like she was going to completely collapse, she felt him pull away, and opened her eyes to see him nipping playfully at Wyatt’s mouth instead. Wyatt’s blue eyes were dark, his cheeks pink, nearly vibrating from need after watching the two of them.

His gazed darted over her body, and she almost wanted to laugh at how hesitant he still was after all this time, waiting for her command. After the way he’d behaved when Jess had first come back, after the way he’d ignored her feelings and gotten possessive, he’d switched to always waiting for her explicit permission.

It was adorable, honestly, and it never failed to make her smile helplessly and melt inside.

“Go on then,” she teased, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Or are you gonna let Garcia do all the hard work here?”

Wyatt rolled his eyes, kissing her and flipping her around so that she was on her back. She laughed, startled, and missed whatever Flynn murmured in Wyatt’s ear that made Wyatt playfully flip him off.

Lucy hooked her leg around his waist, arching her eyebrow challengingly at him.

“Oh, is that how it’s going to be?” Wyatt asked, kissing the smirk off her face and then sliding into her.

The gasping whine she let out didn’t even sound fully human or even as though it had come from her. She wrapped her arms around Wyatt’s shoulders as he braced his hands on either side of her, digging her nails into him as he started to move in her slowly. He was a little more careful than Flynn, who knew her limits and could go right up to the edge of them, but within a minute or two he was going as hard and as fast as Flynn had been. She felt hands trailing down her neck to her breasts and threw her head back in time to catch Flynn's slick smile before he moved his hand down between them to her clit. She felt Flynn shudder as he felt where Wyatt was moving in and out of her, but then he focused in, rubbing at her clit, and she felt another cry being torn out of her throat.

Flynn and Wyatt were merciless and a part of her cursed the fact that they’d learned how to work in sync like this but oh, God, she loved that they had learned to work in sync like this, _fuck_ , yes, she didn’t even know if she was clawing at Flynn or Wyatt anymore but one of them—Wyatt, Wyatt was sucking a hickey into her neck, and Flynn was sliding a finger in along with Wyatt’s cock oh _fuck_ —

She couldn’t even say if Wyatt was coming as well but he must have been because it was Flynn who kissed her to silence her cry as she shuddered, feeling wrecked, her body going tight and arching almost violently as her orgasm tore through her.

There must have been a pause, there must have, but it felt like there wasn’t—like one moment Wyatt was coming inside of her and the next Flynn’s mouth was on her, licking into her, and it occurred to her that he could taste her come and Wyatt’s as well, all three of them in fact and she was so turned on she thought she might die, writhing helplessly, she couldn’t handle it she couldn’t she couldn’t oh oh _fuck_ , she wasn’t even orgasming anymore she was just stuck in some high place where she was constantly feeling those waves break over her and she was clinging to someone, it had to be Wyatt, oh God oh God oh my _God_ …

She didn’t even make a sound that time, too far gone for it, all of her seizing up.

This was how Wyatt felt after a hard session, she thought dimly, clinging to Flynn as she felt Wyatt peppering her face with kisses that made her scrunch up her nose in amusement. She heard Wyatt say something about being exhausted and Flynn reply, “ _You’re_ exhausted? You came _once_ ,” and then Wyatt snarked back that if Flynn had tons of energy still then maybe he’d like to help Wyatt come a second time, and then she started to fall asleep and didn’t register anything else until she heard hushed whispers and movement around her.

“Five,” Flynn told her, sliding in under the blankets as Lucy blinked her eyes open. “Pretty impressive.”

“I could’ve kept going,” she replied, her words slurred and her tongue thick in her mouth.

Wyatt snorted behind her, draping his arm over her waist and snuggling up behind her. “Sure you could’ve, baby doll.”

She really couldn’t have, and she was glad she had boyfriends who knew when she was hitting her limit and wouldn’t let her push too far past it.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Flynn’s thumb brushed over her cheek and her eyes slid closed again as he kissed her temple. “Anytime, darling.”

She was asleep before he even finished the sentence.


	19. Yes Ma'am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a slightly longer, definitely better version of this. I was a massive fucking idiot and lost the text. Had to rewrite it. Let's hope this version isn't as shitty as I think it is.

Sometimes, Lucy got into a mood.

Flynn could always tell. He could feel her hot gaze on him like a brand, making his skin feel too tight, even though he only looked at him occasionally. All through running around Russia during the height of the Cold War. All while being shot at. Especially through their debrief with Agent Christopher afterwards, because now they knew what Rittenhouse’s overall plan was, what their vision of the future was, and could plan better accordingly, could start to put in their own safeguards and counterattacks.

He knew that Wyatt could feel it too by the way Wyatt kept glancing at Lucy, the way he would shuffle his feet and couldn’t seem to stand still, shoving his hands into his pockets like he was trying to keep himself from reaching out and touching her.

Nothing of it showed to the others, though, or to a casual bystander. There was no sign other than that instinctive feeling, the itch at the back of his neck.

Until they finally got into their bedroom.

The moment they were inside and Lucy closed the door, it was like the air was charged with electricity.

She walked up to Flynn, her hands landing gently on his chest, pushing him to walk backwards until the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed and he sat down, putting Lucy at an easy height to take his face in her hands and kiss him.

“Wyatt?” she ordered, her eyes locked on Flynn. “Strip for me.”

She kissed Flynn again. “You too, handsome.”

Lucy stripped economically, without pretense, as she walked over to the dresser they’d chosen as hers. She rifled through the top drawer, pulling out the smaller vibrator, the one for outer use. Not using it on Wyatt, then. Not that Flynn had expected that. He knew how these days went.

Wyatt was stripping his shirt up over his head as Lucy walked over to him, helping him finish getting out of his clothes and then kissing him, quick and enthusiastic. “Come here,” she ordered, taking Wyatt’s hand and leading him over to the bed.

Flynn hadn’t realized until he’d gotten with them how much he enjoyed watching, how much he liked to see them kiss, soft and eager and earnest, the way they fit together, how they lightly trailed their fingers over each other’s skin.

Lucy settled back against the head of the bed and turned the vibrator onto its lowest setting, guiding it between her legs as she speared her fingers through Wyatt’s hair, guiding him down onto all fours in front of her. Wyatt kissed his way down her neck to her breasts, sucking, as Lucy’s eyes slid closed for a moment in pleasure.

She opened them again, looking over at Flynn. She let go of Wyatt’s hair to crook a finger at him. “Garcia.”

He came over to join them, lightly bracing his hand on Wyatt’s shoulder so that he could kiss Lucy. She moaned a little into his mouth, then pulled back with a final peck to the corner of his mouth. Flynn turned, grabbing Wyatt, kissing him next because he knew that was what Lucy wanted out of tonight: to order and to watch.

Wyatt kissed hard, fierce, challenging, because Wyatt was always going to be the type that pushed people, dared people to dominate him. Luckily, Flynn was more than up to the challenge. He pulled Wyatt to him so that they were pressed up against each other, biting and flicking his tongue against his mouth, teasing him, not giving him the deep kisses that he knew Wyatt wanted. Wyatt growled, yanking at Flynn, and Flynn smirked into his mouth because Wyatt was always going to be grumpy and Flynn loved it.

He moved his hand down between Wyatt’s legs and stroked his cock, just as he finally gave Wyatt what he wanted and slid his tongue inside Wyatt’s mouth, moving it in time with his hand. Wyatt dug his nails into Flynn’s shoulders, grinding up against him.

Flynn heard Lucy gasp sharply and broke the kiss to turn and see her watching them with hooded eyes, the vibrator on a higher setting now. Her hips moved restlessly in time with it, and Flynn couldn’t tear his gaze away until Lucy spoke again, directly to him.

“Do you want to fuck him?”

Flynn couldn’t help the growl that escaped him. “Yes.”

“He can speak for himself you know,” Wyatt said with a teasing grin.

“What do you want?” Lucy promptly asked in response.

Wyatt’s eyes were dark and his cheeks had only the faintest blush on them as he spoke. They’d come a long way from when they’d first started and Wyatt wouldn’t even ask for things out loud, would just nod while his cheeks flushed bright red, embarrassment and shame still keeping him from voicing what he wanted.

Now there was no hesitation in his voice as he said, “I want him to fuck me.”

Lucy smiled proudly. “Then go ahead.”

Flynn moved Wyatt back so that he was on all fours again, kissing Lucy, while he reached into the bedside drawer to grab the lube. He slicked himself up, just watching the two of them for a moment, before Lucy shot him a warning look and he focused back in on Wyatt.

He dropped kisses down Wyatt’s spine as he slowly started to slide his finger inside. Wyatt groaned, his head dropping down. He was so tight, and Flynn had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from losing his damn mind as he started to work Wyatt open, continuing to kiss Wyatt all over his back, keeping him from going too crazy as Flynn scissored his fingers.

He was up to two fingers when Wyatt started pushing back into him, making tiny helpless noises in the back of his throat, especially when Flynn twisted his fingers and got the angle that made Wyatt jerk in pleasure. He would have entered him then, but he wasn’t in charge, and the only response from Lucy was to nod at him to keep going. He added a third finger, keeping his pace a little slower so that Wyatt wouldn’t be pushed too far.

Flynn didn’t know where to look—at his own fingers sliding in and out of Wyatt, at Lucy’s face as she gasped and moaned, or at the way the vibrator became steadily wetter as she worked herself with it.

Lucy was kissing soothingly all over Wyatt’s face, murmuring words of encouragement and praise. Flynn’s cock was achingly hard between his legs and he knew that Wyatt was at the point where he was about to start begging, when Lucy locked eyes with him.

She nodded.

Flynn slid his hands up and then back down Wyatt’s sides, soothing him as he positioned himself. He slicked up his cock, giving just a couple of pulls before he was slowly, carefully, sliding inside.

He loved the sound of surprised, overwhelmed pleasure that Wyatt made as he entered him, like Wyatt had forgotten since last time what this felt like. It was reassuring to know that no matter how often or how many times they did this, for Wyatt it was still as good and as intense as the first time.

Lucy hitched her leg up so that she sank down further into the vibrator, Wyatt practically cradled between her legs. She watched Wyatt’s face carefully as Flynn paused, waiting for Wyatt to adjust. Only when he started making impatient noises and shoving himself back onto Flynn did he start to move.

Days like these, Lucy dictated the pace. She told him to go fast or to go slow, told Wyatt when he had to stop pushing his hips back into Flynn’s strokes and just hold still, taking it. Flynn gripped Wyatt’s hips tight, clenching his teeth against the growing pressure inside of him, the sensation of how slick and tight Wyatt was and the sight of Lucy steadily fucking herself almost more than he could stand. He was only human, after all. But he waited, holding back, for Lucy’s permission.

“Do you want to come?” Lucy asked Wyatt, brushing his hair back out of his face.

“Yes,” Wyatt admitted, nuzzling instinctively into the palm of her hand.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, please.”

Lucy looked up, meeting Flynn’s gaze. The corner of her mouth flicked upward. “Go ahead.”

Flynn let go of Wyatt’s hip and slid his hand between Wyatt’s legs, stroking his cock, swiping his thumb over the head. Now that he was given permission he couldn’t hold it back. He could see Lucy’s mouth drop open on a cry, her hips arching up sharply before she collapsed back down onto the bed, could feel Wyatt tightening up around him as he came, hear the desperate noises that he was making as he spilled over Flynn’s hand. His skin was too hot and feeling electric, building up between his legs and the corners of his eyes. He practically shoved himself into Wyatt, biting down hard on the back of Wyatt’s shoulder, jerking through it.

He slowly pulled out of Wyatt and moved to lie down—or more like flop down—next to Lucy. She tilted her head so that Flynn could kiss her, her hand stroking through Wyatt’s hair, his head now pillowed on her thigh.

“You did such a good job,” she cooed at Wyatt, winking at Flynn. The smile that she gave was one that Flynn would have walked a mile on broken glass for. “My boys.”

Yes, sometimes Lucy got into a mood.

But Flynn would never complain.


	20. Shameless

Flynn stretched out on the couch with affected laziness, smirking in acknowledgement at one of the other men in the room before letting his eyes slide away.

It was rare that they didn’t have to go back in time for a mission, but sometimes it happened. Rittenhouse was active in the present as well, both to reap the benefits of their time traveling and to have backup plans in case said time traveling went awry.

When Flynn heard what their mission was, he’d burst out laughing.

Then he’d realized that Denise was serious.

“A sex party,” Rufus had repeated, like someone had asked him to go swim in a piranha-filled lake.

“I’m not driving,” Jiya had said quickly.

“Silicon Valley has been having them for years,” Mason had said. “I’ve gone to _quite_ a few…”

All of them had groaned. “Connor, we really don’t need to hear it,” Rufus had pleaded.

Mason had then grown serious. “They aren’t just sex parties. They’ve actually been drawing some media attention lately for how political they are. People who turn down invitations will find themselves shoved out of deals and denied promotions. It’s like cocktail parties or going to the VIP booth at the baseball stadium.”

“With more obvious misogyny,” Jiya had noted.

“The world is controlled today by the one percent and technology,” Mason had told them. “If Rittenhouse can use these… mixers, in order to recruit people and to influence deals and policies, we could have Big Brother on our hands in no time.”

“Then why don’t you go?” Wyatt had blurted out, hotheaded as he always was when he felt vulnerable and therefore defensive. Flynn had put his hand on Wyatt’s knee under the table, and had seen Lucy out of the corner of his eye intertwining her fingers with Wyatt’s. Wyatt was growing daily more confident in the bedroom but was still uncomfortable in public. Even when it came to flirting with women for a mission.

“I’ll be spotted too easily,” Mason had explained. “I’m known there. Rittenhouse agents will know who I am the moment they hear my name, and I can’t pretend to be someone else. But you three—or four—can.”

“When I said I wanted us to do a road trip, FYI, this is not what I’d had in mind,” Rufus had added.

So now they were at this sex party.

Yay.

Flynn wasn’t judging. If someone wanted to have a good old-fashioned orgy then by all means, just remember to bring the condoms. But this was more than that. This was sex used as politics, used as bullying. He could see the way the majority of the women weren’t really happy to be there, the way their male colleagues were treating them. He’d also noticed the distinct lack of gay people—the two women who’d been compelled into making out didn’t count.

It made him want to punch somebody. A few somebodys.

But he had to stick around on the couch, because it was where he had an eye on all the exits. Smirking at a few people here and there gave the illusion that he was a voyeur, and kept people from asking questions.

The smell of her perfume reached him before he felt her hands on his shoulders. Lucy leaned in, kissing his ear, her voice low as her hands slid down over his chest.

“I convinced the agent,” she whispered. She’d been working on the Rittenhouse guy, who fortunately—as Mason had predicted—didn’t recognize Lucy, or Flynn, or Wyatt. Or Rufus, for that matter.

Rufus was, as far as Flynn could tell, the only one having a good time. He’d found one of the techie girls and was now in the middle of a lively discussion on whether it was possible to actually create lightsabers. Flynn suspected the woman was just so relieved there was a guy around who wasn’t trying to sleep with her that she’d happily talk about the damn weather.

“You sure about this?” Flynn asked, his voice a low rumble. To anyone else, it probably looked like Lucy was propositioning him. Her long dark hair hid most of their faces.

“I can do this,” she assured him.

The plan was for Lucy to get the guy upstairs in one of the bedrooms and hit him with a knockout drug in the syringe taped to the underside of her bra. She’d hide him under the bed, then hop in the shower (door locked) and wait for the party to be over.

Wyatt and Flynn would retrieve the guy and get him into the car once there were only a few guests left, and they could pretend he’d fallen asleep or something. Leave the party too early, and nobody would believe the guy was that drunk. If they timed it right, the people remaining might all be passed out. Flynn had seen an astonishing number and variety of drugs being passed around.

Alcohol, too.

Rufus’s job, as the only person actually qualified to be invited to one of these things, was to network. See what damage Rittenhouse had already done, and try to divert it or at least gather intel.

Lucy’s morning yoga with Jiya was paying off. She swung over the couch to land neatly in Flynn’s lap. “He does anything,” Flynn warned her, hands settling on her hips as she lazily rolled her hips, “scream, or use the code word. We’ll hear you. Fight dirty.”

Lucy nodded, letting out a moan that Flynn knew only he could tell was fake. “Got it.”

She pushed her hair back in a move that would have been sexy, and was to anyone looking, but allowed her to tap on the two-way comm. in her ear. Mason had made them for everyone.

Flynn heard the sound of the tap in his ear. “You’re working.”

Lucy leaned in, balancing her hands on his chest, kissing him. “Keep an eye on Wyatt, I think I saw him take a shot.”

Wyatt, to the surprise of most, was a lightweight. His dad had been an alcoholic and so Wyatt himself rarely drank, usually just nursing a beer or two. When he’d found out that according to this timeline’s Jess he’d been an alcoholic as well, he’d gotten even more paranoid. Lucy could actually—thanks to some vodka binging that everyone knew better than to bring up, plus some questionable choices in college—handle far more alcohol than Wyatt could.

One shot should have him pretty damn tipsy. Shit.

“I’ll find him,” Flynn assured her.

He kissed her again, both for good luck and because he really, really did not like the idea that this Rittenhouse asshole was about to possibly—depending on how fast Lucy got the syringe into him—kiss his girlfriend. He really needed to get around to proposing.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Lucy told him, and then she was sliding away, disappearing into the crowd.

Flynn willed himself not to look like a pissed-off boyfriend who had to watch his girl play honeypot and instead like a satisfied guy who’d just made out with a hot random woman. As his eyes scanned the crowd again, checking the exits, he froze.

He’d found Wyatt.

And Wyatt was definitely not sober.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes Wyatt really hated that he didn’t drink more? Because it meant that being pressured into doing one shot—and he had to ‘cause otherwise it would look weird—was enough to get him _reaaaaaal_ tipsy?

These tecchies were. Such assholes. Different kind of assholes from rednecks. Good thing Jiya hadn’t come or she’d be mowing them down right left and center and wow. Fuck. There was a lot of sex going on.

But y’know right now, being tipsy wasn’t so bad. Because if he wasn’t tipsy, he wouldn’t have had the courage to go up to Flynn—Flynn was on the couch, legs spread, looking like fucking _sin_ in tight black pants and a black button up shirt like who gave him the right—he wouldn’t have had the courage to go up to Flynn and plant his hands on Flynn’s knees and kiss him until their mouths got slick and messy.

“How much have you had?” Flynn asked.

Wyatt shrugged. “Just one shot.”

“One shot of what.”

“Fuck if I know. These guys are assholes.”

He slid down Flynn’s body because he really liked Flynn’s cock and this was a sex party so he was allowed to just kind of nuzzle it through Flynn’s pants, right? There was actual literal Tab A into Slot B sex going on ten feet away so this was practically PG.

Flynn made a strangled noise. “Wyatt, we have other things to think about.”

“We can’t do anything until everyone leaves,” Wyatt pointed out. He could feel the swelling outline of Flynn’s cock and he sucked at it through the fabric.

Flynn groaned, his head falling back, his chest heaving. “Wyatt—shit, fuck—you can’t just—”

“It’s a sex party Flynn, we have to fit in.”

“Oh yes, with all the other gay people you see around us,” Flynn said dryly.

Normally Wyatt would’ve cared a lot more about that, but he didn’t right now, right now he wanted—

He crawled up Flynn’s body, straddling his lap. “Lucy’s safe, she said so on the comm. She’s in the shower and the guy’s trussed up and asleep. We’ve got another hour until this thing winds down. And I want you.” He kissed along Flynn’s jaw. “Really, really badly, like, fuck, please, Garcia?”

Flynn’s hands came up to grip Wyatt’s hips, then slid up his sides to wrap around to his shoulder blades. “Something could go wrong.”

“We gotta fit in, right?” Wyatt kissed him again, whining a little in the back of his throat. “I just—I want you to make me do what you say, I know I’m cranky and I don’t say it but fuck, please, when you do that growly thing and get all rough, I fucking love it and I just want you to fuck me so hard until I think I can’t take it _please_ —”

“When the fuck,” Flynn demanded, one of his hands moving up to seize a fistful of Wyatt’s hair, “Did you decide to become a goddamn minx, and couldn’t you have chosen a time when we’re not undercover and in public?”

Wyatt frowned, thinking hard about that. Probably harder than he would have had to think about it if he was sober. “I mean, I think it,” he said. “It’s just—like butterflies. Clouds.”

“What?”

“Like when you try to grab a cloud but it’s not really made out of anything. That’s how my thoughts get. About it. I think because I wouldn’t let myself think anything like that so I shoved it away and now I have to wait for it to come out? Like I’m a nature photographer. Capturing the elusive… I don’t know. Fucking metaphors.”

Flynn chuckled. “You’re adorable. And drunk.”

“No, only tipsy.” He squirmed in Flynn’s lap. “I can feel you, I know you want me. Fuck, you’re thick, I always kind of wonder if I can take it and I like that I wonder that, y’know?”

Flynn choked out something in Croatian that was probably either _oh my God_ or some variation.

Wyatt leaned in again, still working his hips, loving the rough, trapped feeling of grinding against Flynn through their pants. He stopped when his lips were right up against Flynn’s, so that each word was said against his mouth. “Besides, you haven’t fucked me against a wall yet and you definitely bragged about being able to do that. Twice. You bragged twice.”

Flynn let out a growl that sounded impossibly deep, and then Wyatt was knocked to his feet as Flynn stood up. He barely had time to recover before Flynn was yanking him in by the belt loops, his hands sliding down over Wyatt’s ass and then Flynn was kissing him, licking right in and Wyatt shuddered happily, wrapping his arms around Flynn’s neck, content to let Flynn do whatever the hell he wanted to him.

They didn’t stop kissing as Flynn walked him backwards to the nearest wall—or maybe it wasn’t the nearest, it was the darkest corner in the room, Wyatt wasn’t so drunk he failed to notice that.

That was what he loved about Flynn. Even when he was being rough and all that he was still being considerate, still being protective.

Flynn chuckled against his mouth and Wyatt realized he’d said it out loud. “Sorry,” he apologized.

Flynn nipped at his lips. “Don’t be. You don’t apologize for being honest, _Liebling_.” He started kissing down Wyatt’s neck. “Only… when you… disobey… and then you know how to make it up, right?”

Wyatt shivered, arching up against him. “Sometimes I want to disobey.”

Flynn froze for the barest moment, then kept kissing him. “Yeah?” he asked, sounding less in charge and more inquiring.

Wyatt nodded. The movement felt sloppy. “I want—I want to so that you guys have to punish me. Like the vibrator, I loved that, but instead of getting me to come you say I’m not allowed to come or you force me to come even if I try not to and—”

Flynn looked like he was having what Lucy had taken to calling his ‘brain glitch’. “You really need to find a way to tell us these things when you’re sober.”

Wyatt couldn’t even begin to unravel that sentence when he was this mentally uneven, but then it was a moot point anyway because Flynn was undoing Wyatt’s pants and getting his hand around Wyatt’s cock.

“Fuck,” Wyatt spat out. He pawed at Flynn’s pants, getting in the way as Flynn tried to stroke him. “I want, I want, I want—”

“Alcohol makes you impatient, good to know,” Flynn snarked, helping Wyatt get both of their pants down. “Hey.” He took Wyatt’s chin firmly in his hand. “You want to do this?”

Wyatt nodded. He did he did he really did fuck please—

Flynn held up a stern finger. “Then no. Sudden. Moves. Got it?”

Wyatt wondered what that meant, but then he got his answer as Flynn got his arms under Wyatt’s thighs and _holy fucking shit he wasn’t kidding_ lifted him up against the wall.

“This is the hottest moment of my life,” Wyatt blurted out. “Except maybe the time Lucy was. Lucy.”

“Lucy is pretty hot,” Flynn acknowledged in his _I’m incredibly amused with you_ voice.

Wyatt bit his lip in retaliation.

Flynn yelped. “What did I say about sudden moves? I don’t want to drop you.”

“You won’t,” Wyatt said with the happy confidence of a drunk person who can totally walk in a straight line, Officer.

Flynn grumbled something in Croatian that Wyatt couldn’t have heard even if it was in English, and then shifted, using his hips to help keep Wyatt pinned while he freed one of his hands. “You’ll want to hold on.”

Wyatt shuddered as he felt cold, slick fingers nudging at his entrance. “Where’d you even get lube?”

“It’s a sex party, Wyatt.”

“Why do _you_ have lube?”

“Because I believe in being prepared,” Flynn replied, and then he kissed Wyatt to shut him up.

It was probably a good strategy. Wyatt had a lot of thoughts cramming up his mouth.

He groaned a lot into Flynn’s mouth, though, because it felt good. _Really_ good. So good. Did Flynn know how good this felt?

“I don’t know if I should call you greedy or adorable,” Flynn muttered in response. “Do you even know you’re saying all of this out loud?”

“Nope. God I love feeling stretched out.”

“I would pay money for a recording of you saying all this. I would pay so much money. A million dollars. I’d steal it from Mason.”

“Why? You can fuck me all the time. Please do.”

Flynn paused, his fingers still inside Wyatt, his eyes unusually serious. “Because you’ll deny it when you’re sober.”

“I won’t,” Wyatt promised. “Babe, I promise, I won’t.”

He just might not say it all out loud when he was sober.

Flynn sighed, the kind of sigh that he and Lucy sometimes gave Wyatt, where it was like they knew him better than he knew himself. Wyatt wanted to say something more, but he didn’t even know what, and then it was too late because Flynn was withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his cock.

“ _Fuck_ yes,” Wyatt blurted out. “Fucking finally.”

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting for so long,” Flynn said dryly.

“It’s okay,” Wyatt decided, because kissing Flynn was much more important at the moment. Kissing Flynn was in fact the most important thing ever.

Flynn made another startled noise but kissed him back, rolling his hips slowly. Part of Wyatt’s brain was still screaming that Flynn was fucking him against a wall holy shit holy _shit where was Lucy to see this_. The rest of him was busy being very, very pleased with how goddamn good this felt.

He pulled back, gasping for breath, and his eyes slid over Flynn’s shoulder. His vision blurred for a moment as he pushed himself down onto Flynn’s cock and Flynn started moving harder, faster, the way that Wyatt loved, but he thought he recognized through the sea of people at the bottom of the stairs—

“She’s watching,” he blurted out. “Fuck, that’s really—that’s really hot, I like when—”

Flynn slowed down a little but didn’t stop moving completely. “You like it when people watch you?”

“Not people—you and Lucy. Lucy’s at—she’s watching us, fuck, Garcia, she’s—”

Lucy’s gaze could be felt all the way across the room. They were almost in complete darkness but she had to know how they moved by now, had trailed her fingers over every inch of them in the dark at night in bed, knew what they felt like against every part of her body. There was no doubt that she knew it was them.

Her eyes pinned Wyatt down as much as Flynn’s body did, and he felt his cock jerk, leaking, at the thought of her watching them. He moaned, incredibly turned on and putting on a bit of a show for her. She wouldn't be able to hear him moan but she'd be able to see the way his head fell back, the way that his mouth fell open.

“Always knew you liked to show off for us a little,” Flynn growled, shoving himself into Wyatt and making Wyatt claw at his back. His mouth was right at Wyatt’s ear, his voice all that Wyatt could hear. “Knew you were showing off for us, gorgeous and desperate—”

Wyatt groaned incoherently, tugging at Flynn, grabbing him, kissing him messily everywhere that he could reach as Flynn well and truly fucked him. He could feel Lucy’s gaze on him like a brand, making him hot all over as Flynn hit that perfect sweet spot and Wyatt could only hold on, could only take it, helpless and begging and loving it and he didn’t even know what was in his head and what he was saying anymore and it was all a perfect blur and oh God shit Flynn please _please_ …

He jerked violently as he came, spurting over both their shirts, biting down hard onto Flynn’s shoulder to muffle the yell ripped out of him. Flynn grunted, either from the pain or from coming or both.

“I love when you come in me,” Wyatt noted. “Makes me feel dirty, I like that.”

“I really wish I was twenty again right now,” Flynn muttered. Wyatt didn’t quite understand that but he had a feeling he didn’t understand it because he was still kind of (very) drunk.

Flynn started to pull away, to set Wyatt down, but Wyatt clung to him and wouldn’t let him. “I mean it,” he said, nuzzling just under Flynn’s jaw. “I don’t say it ‘cause usually I don’t now how but I don’t take any of it back. You can do anything to me and I’ll want it, anything I said tonight. I like it when one of you is fucking me and the other’s watching me, I like showing off for you, I like it when you make me feel dirty and a little used and I push you and get grumpy because sometimes I want you to punish me for it.”

The words all came out in a slurred, stumbled rush. Or at least, that was how Flynn heard them. To Wyatt, they sounded perfectly coherent and articulate.

But Flynn got the gist, because he kissed Wyatt slowly, deeply, as he helped Wyatt to stand on his own two feet again. His legs felt like jelly. “I want to go home,” Wyatt admitted.

“We will soon. We should put you in the shower, sober you up.”

Wyatt tipped his head forward against Flynn’s shoulder. “It’s a good thing we’re not really tecchie guys. They won’t invite us back after this. Fucking homophobes. We should deport them to Texas with my hometown homophobes. They’d get along. Be homophobes together and leave us alone.”

Flynn chuckled fondly, pulling Wyatt’s head back up. “You’re not going to really remember much of this in the morning, are you?”

“Probably not.” Wyatt frowned, thinking. “I don’t really remember much when I’m super drunk? That’s what Jess says anyway. I have to trust what she says. Because I don’t remember.”

Flynn rolled his eyes. “Then I suppose I can get away with telling you that you’re adorable and I’m marrying your ass someday soon.”

“And Lucy’s?”

“And Lucy’s, of course.”

“Good. I’d like that.”

Flynn helped them both get somewhat presentable as the party died down. Rufus took one look at them and decided he was going to chaperone the various ladies to their cars—he’d developed a bit of a harem while they were busy and was holding court in the kitchen where he was waxing poetic about Hedy Lamarr.

Lucy appeared, looking fresh as a daisy from the shower except for the hungry look in her eyes.

Wyatt beamed at her. “Did you like it?”

Lucy gripped the kitchen counter until Wyatt saw her knuckles go white. “We are loading that asshat into the car. We are driving to deliver him to Denise. We are driving home. And then I am fucking both of you. Possibly twice. Have I made myself clear?”

Wyatt swallowed hard. He couldn’t get hard again, not quite yet—especially being drunk—but yes, yes ma’am. “Okay,” he croaked.

Flynn nodded, clearly speechless.

“We good to go?” Rufus asked, hurrying over.

Lucy nodded. “Let’s get to work.”

“Some of us have been working this whole time,” Rufus muttered.

Flynn cleared his throat. “Wyatt’s five eleven. I was definitely working.”

Rufus looked like he was considering braining his head against the wall.

Lucy took Wyatt’s hands in hers. “You good to go? You look a little…”

“Drunk,” Rufus said, deadpan.

“I’m good.” The exercise from the sex and the endorphins from, well, sex, were clearing his head a little. “I can carry a guy to the car.”

“Then let’s go.” Lucy squeezed his hands and then released them, leading the way upstairs.

Flynn made to follow her, but right before he did he leaned in Wyatt’s ear. “I’m remembering every single word of that,” he whispered. “Every. Single. Word.”

Wyatt didn’t know how to say it now that the buzz in his veins was starting to die down but—he was looking forward to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those Silicon Valley parties are a real thing. They're as horribly misogynistic as you would expect.


	21. A Poetry Reading

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who was it that said Flynn would sound good reading the phone book? Because that's what gave me the idea for this. Also extasiswings because she shamelessly encouraged me.

When Lucy came in, she found Flynn lying in bed on top of the covers, propped up on the pillows, reading a book.

Well, she was never going to pass up an opportunity like that. She promptly crawled onto the bed with him, resting her head on his shoulder. “What are you reading?”

It was Neruda, that much she could tell from the name at the top of the page, but it was all in Spanish.

Flynn tilted the page so that she could see better, even though he knew that she couldn’t speak the language. “It’s his Love Sonnet XI, from his One Hundred Love Sonnets.”

Lucy should’ve known. The three of them had decided on simple rings, nothing fancy, but with an inscription inside each of them, something that could only be read in full when you put the three rings together. The overall consensus was that it should probably be a poem, but which poem, they were still figuring out.

Rufus’s suggestion of _I love you, I know,_ and _rrrrrgggghhh_ was summarily dismissed.

“I’ve never actually read all one hundred. I know that one about… the topaz?”

Flynn gave her a small, warm smile. “That one’s my favorite,” he admitted, almost shy.

Lucy nudged him. “Maybe we can show that one to Wyatt later. As an option for the rings. But read me this one now.”

Flynn shrugged nonchalantly, which should’ve been her first clue. “All right. I’ll translate as I go.”

He cleared his throat. “ _Tengo hambre de tu boca, de tu vox, de tu pelo_. I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.”

His voice was low but smooth as it flowed over the Spanish and then the English. It was the voice, Lucy realized, that he usually used for when he was deep inside of her, his mouth right at her ear.

She shivered instinctively, and Flynn put his arm around her shoulders.

“ _Y por las calles voy sin nutrirme, callado._ Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.”

He turned so that his mouth was right at her ear, the barest edge of a growl around his voice. His arm slid slowly down, down until it was around her waist and his hand could burrow in underneath her shirt, his thumb swiping at the soft skin of her waist.

“ _No me sostiene el pan, el abla me dsquicia, busco el sonido liquid de tus pies en el dia_.” Lucy’s breath started to come fast and shallow as he spoke. “Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.”

She could hear the smile in his voice as he brushed his mouth against her skin, like he was pressing the words into her. Her eyes slid closed almost against her will, so that she could better soak up all the filthy things he was whispering to her.

“ _Estoy hambriento de tu risa resbalada, de tus manos color de furioso granero, tengo hambre de la pálida Piedra de tus uñas, quiero comer tu piel como una intacta almendra._ ”

His teeth and lips were scraping over her neck, just below her ear, her jaw, not quite kissing her, just reciting the words against her skin.

“I hunger for your sleek laugh, your hands the color of a savage harvest, hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails, I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.”

He handed her the book, and Lucy took it instinctively, Flynn’s hands moving to her hips and slowly tugging her into his lap. She tipped her head back, nearly dropping the book, as he ran his lips along the curve of her neck. His fingers slid back and forth along the skin of her waist, never dipping lower or higher, never giving her what she wanted. As he began to kiss along her neck, he kept reading, his voice flowing over her and wrapping around her until she was panting.

“ _Quiero comer el ravo quemado en tu hermosura, la narize soberana del arrogante rostro, quiero comer la sombra fugaz de tus pestañas._ I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, the sovereign nose of your arrogant face, I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes.”

He used his teeth to lightly tug on the lobe of her ear, his hands moving down to splay across the inside of her thighs, tugging them apart, spreading her open.

“ _Y hambriento vengo y voy olfateando el crepúsulo buscándote, buscando tu corazón caliente como un puma en la soledad de Quitratúe_.”

She wanted his mouth on hers, wanted to swallow the words he was giving her, wanted to his fingers, all of him, inside of her, everywhere.

His hands were like a vice, holding her down, keeping her from arching her hips and begging for him. When she tried to catch his lips he would pull just out of reach, still speaking in that low, dark chocolate voice.

“And I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight, hunting for you, for your hot heart, like a puma in the barrens of Quitratúe.”

Lucy could feel herself trembling all over. She knew now what game they were playing and she wanted to punch him just a little for being a sly bastard, but more than that she wanted him to keep going and never stop.

She swallowed, her throat dry. “Read me another one.”

Flynn smiled, slow and hungry, and took the book out of her hands.

Because of course he had one memorized. Of _course_.

Why the hell he couldn’t have been this suave when he was first trying to date her, Lucy would never figure out.

“This is one is called _Oda a la bella desnuda._ ”

“What’s that mean?”

Flynn rested his hand low on her stomach, his fingers dipping just below the waistband of her pants. His voice was a purr in her ear. “Ode to a Naked Beauty.”

Lucy tried to kiss him, _had_ to kiss him, but he darted away, moving his hands up to her shirt, yanking it up and off of her. Lucy thanked her lucky stars that she’d been lazy, just grabbing one of Wyatt’s t shirts and not even bothering with a bra.

Flynn gently pushed her hair back out of her face, the movement surprisingly gentle and loving after the searing seduction he’d been pushing a moment before. Lucy ran her hands up his arms, gripping his shoulders.

“ _Con casto corazón, con ojos puros, te celebro, belleza, reteniendo la sangre para que surja y siga la linea, tu contorno, para que te acuestes en mi oda como en tierra de bosques o en espuma: en aroma terrestre o en música marina_.”

She didn’t understand the words but the tone was crystal clear, and she shivered violently, arching up as Flynn dipped his head down to kiss behind her ear, her jaw, her neck, her shoulder.

“With chaste heart, and pure eyes, I celebrate you, my beauty, restraining my blood so that the line surges and follows your contour, and you bed yourself in my verse, as in woodland, or wave-spume: earth’s perfume, sea’s music.”

His hand slid up and down her side while he recited the words, just barely skimming her breasts but not touching her properly.

Suddenly he bit her neck and she groaned, clinging to him. “ _Bella desnuda, igual tus pies arqueados por un antiguo golpe del viento o del sonido que tus orejas, caracolas, mínimas del esplendido mar americano_.”

His hand finally moved up to touch her breast, palming it, his thumb circling her nipple, and then he darted down and tongued the other one, sucking on it, his teeth scraping in the way that made her shiver violently. When he pulled back his eyes were so dark Lucy thought she could get lost in them. He was cradled between her legs now, and she could feel every inch of him.

Flynn continued to touch her breasts with his hands while he reached up to kiss her nose, her temples, and then her closed eyelids. “ _Iguales son tus pechos de paralela plenitude, colmados por la luz de la vida, iguales son volando tus párpados de trigo que descrubren o ceirran dos países profundos en tus ojos_.”

“What are you saying,” she panted, desperate. She knew it was something primal, something explicit, knew it by the way his voice rolled the words around in his mouth, but she needed to know exactly what.

Flynn chuckled, kissing the very corner of her mouth, still avoiding a proper kiss.

“Nakedly beautiful, whether it is your feet, arching at a primal touch of sound or breeze, or your ears, tiny spiral shells from the splendor of America’s oceans.”

As he spoke his hands move downwards, finally taking her pants and yanking them down.

“Your breasts also, of equal fullness, overflowing with the living light and, yes, winged your eyelids of silken corn that disclose or enclose the deep twin landscapes of your eyes.”

He slowly mouthed up her thighs, biting here and there, sucking right along the juncture of her thigh. Lucy breathed out a small whine.

“ _La línea que tu espalda ha dividido en pálidas reiones se pierde…_ ” He crawled back up her body, his hand sliding between her legs. “ _…y surge en dos tersas mitades de manzana y sigue separando tu hermosura en dos columnas de ora quemado…_ ”

He rubbed his thumb along her clit, a finger sliding inside of her. He was up against her side, his free hand taking a fistful of her hair and using it to tilt her head to the side so that his mouth was right at her ear again as he slowly stroked in and out of her. “ _…de alabastro fino, a perderse en tus pies como en dos uvas, desde donde otra vez arde y se eleva el árbol florido, candelabro abierto, turgente fruta erguida sobre el pacto del mar y de la tierra_.”

Lucy clung to him, the words sinking into her skin, sliding through her like the pleasure pooling between her legs.

She didn’t even have to ask for Flynn to translate it this time. He whispered it all like thick honey in her ear as he kept teasing her, never moving too fast, never adding another finger, just making her impossibly wound up and wet.

“The line of your back separating you falls away into paler regions then surges to the smooth hemispheres of an apple, and goes splitting your loveliness into two pillars of burnt gold, pure alabaster, to be lost in the twin clusters of your feet, from which, once more, lifts and takes fire the double tree of your symmetry: flower of fire, open circle of candles, swollen fruit raised over the meeting of earth and ocean.”

He finally sank a second finger into her, and Lucy cried out. She wanted to beg him to kiss her, to give her more, but she didn’t want him to stop talking to her in that voice.

“ _Tu cuerpo, en qué materia, ágata, cuarzo, trigo, se plasmò, fue subiendo como el pan se levanta de la temperatura, y señalò colinas plateadas, valles de un solo pétalò, dulzuras de profundo terciopelo, hasta quedar cuajada la fina y firme forma femenina?"_

Flynn added a third finger, kissing her all over, her neck, her shoulders, her cheeks. Lucy had known, always known, the idea that words were secondary to tone, but she had never truly felt it until now, when despite not knowing what he was saying the words still made her shiver and spread her legs, made her dig her nails into his arms and feel her veins fill with hot desperation.

“Your body—from what substances agate, quartz, ears of wheat, did it flow, was it gathered, rising like bread in the warmth, and signaling hills silvered, valleys of a single petal, sweetnesses of velvet depth, until the pure, fine, form of woman thickened and rested there?”

Flynn’s voice was teasing, his gaze locked onto hers, as if he was expecting her to actually be able to answer the question. He crooked his fingers, his thumb scraping over her clit one last time, and Lucy inhaled sharply, her back bowing as her legs shuddered and she came, spilling all over his hand, feeling like her breath had been ripped out of her.

Finally, finally finally, Flynn reached down and kissed her, swallowing the whining sigh of release she gave. Her hand slid up into his hair, the back of his head, keeping him against her. The next lines were pushed into her mouth, because now that she had his lips on hers, his tongue against hers, there was no way she was letting him go.

“ _No solo es luz que cae sobre el mundo la que alarga en tu cuerpo su nieve sofacada, sino que se desprende de ti la claridad como si fueras encendida por dentro_.”

His hands rubbed up and down her legs and sides, soothing her. She let him pull away a bit, just enough to scatter a few more kisses on her face.

“It is not so much light that falls over the world extended by your body its suffocating snow, as brightness, pouring itself out of you, as if you were burning inside.”

She felt dazed, undone, ethereal. She ran her fingers over his face, wishing she knew a poem she could recite back at him, wondrous words that would express how he made her feel.

But, going by the way he kissed her again, gently moved her hand away when she tried to return the favor… she had a feeling she didn’t need words. That he already knew. That this had been about showing her that.

They lay there, legs intertwined, her head on his shoulder. Flynn was gazing down at her, and she wondered at how she had ever thought his expression hard and unfathomable, when now his face was soft, every emotion laid bare in front of her.

He said one last line. “ _Debajo de tu piel vive la luna_.”

She knew that luna meant _moon_ but didn’t know the rest. “Translate it.”

Flynn smiled at her, brushing his nose against hers. “Under your skin the moon is alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So um go read some Pablo Neruda?


	22. Sunday Morning

Lucy woke up slowly, which was the perfect way to wake up.

She became aware of everything around her gradually. It was cold at her back, which meant Flynn was already awake. Not unusual. Her legs were warm, tangled up in the sheets that had gotten kicked down at some point in the night. She was half-draped over Wyatt, probably to make up for the fact that her second human space heater was now gone.

Wyatt stirred underneath her, then pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead. “Ah, fuck.”

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Lucy replied. As if she hadn’t only just woken up.

She rolled over so that she was completely on top of him, resting her chin on his chest and smiling at him. “How’re you feeling?”

“Not nearly as hungover as I thought I’d be,” Wyatt confessed.

“Kidnapping a Rittenhouse agent and then two rounds of sex before bed will do that to you.”

“I am never taking shots again,” Wyatt grumbled. He squinted around. “Garcia’s up?”

“Probably only just.” She couldn’t smell any coffee yet.

Wyatt got a sly grin on his face. “Okay, so I can tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

Wyatt sat up, nearly knocking Lucy over, and she had to spread her legs and grab his shoulders to keep from falling off the bed. He had the dopiest puppy smile on his face, the one that made Lucy smile back helplessly because he just looked so damn exuberant.

“Flynn’s gonna propose.”

Lucy nearly fell off the bed again. “He’s going to _what_.”

Wyatt nodded. “He told me last night because I don’t usually remember what happens when I’m drunk because I don’t do it often. Get drunk, I mean.”

“Yes, sweetheart, we’ve noticed.”

Wyatt leaned in and playfully sucked at her neck in retaliation. Lucy laughed, shoving him back. “What did he say exactly?”

“He said he was gonna marry my ass soon, and yours too.”

“Good to know that’s the part of our bodies he cares about.”

“You know what I mean, Luce.”

She smiled at him, and something odd must have shown on her face, because Wyatt looked puzzled. “What?”

Lucy shrugged. “Nothing. I just… you look so happy. You’re happy, Wyatt. And I’m happy. And there was a time when we thought that we couldn’t be.”

Wyatt’s eyes grew dark and thoughtful, his hands slowly running up and down her sides. “Yeah, I remember.”

“At the pool…”

“You mean when we moved way too fast?” Wyatt joked.

The fact that they could even joke about that, about the disaster that had followed, told Lucy how far they’d all come. “We were unhappy and desperate. I don’t know if I can really blame ourselves for that.”

“I can blame myself.”

Lucy shook her head, leaning in and kissing him softly. “Nope. Not allowed.”

Wyatt got that conspiratorial little smile on his face. “Mmm, you know what they say helps with hangover headaches?”

“Oh, is that so?” Lucy rolled her hips, making a pleased little gasp as she felt Wyatt start to harden with interest.

She felt suddenly giddy. They’d successfully captured a Rittenhouse agent and given him to Denise for questioning, she’d had fantastic sex with her boyfriends last night, and one of her boyfriends was going to propose. She got to travel through time and meet all of her heroes and she had amazing friends.

Right now, life was feeling pretty damn good.

“Flynn’s gonna be mad that we started without him,” Wyatt noted, even as he let her kiss him. “Got up early to make us coffee and everything.”

“You two had hot as fuck wall sex without me last night,” Lucy replied, yanking her sleep shirt off. Technically it was one of Flynn’s shirts but he’d just left it lying around and finders keepers, right? “The only reason I even knew was that your damn comm was on the whole time.”

“I wondered how you knew to come downstairs and watch,” Wyatt mumbled around a mouthful of her neck.

Lucy slid her hands down his chest, ever so grateful that Wyatt tended to overheat while he slept and so rarely wore a shirt to bed. “You know something?”

Wyatt hummed, getting his hands underneath her ass so that he could hoist her up a little, putting her breasts at the perfect height for him to get his mouth on them.

Lucy gasped, arching. “I—I was thinking—”

Wyatt pulled back and looked up at her. “You’re thinking? I feel like I’m not doing this right.”

“Ha, ha.” She flicked him on the nose, then kissed it to soften the blow. Her hand slid down between her legs, prepping herself so she wouldn’t have to bother moving around to get the best angle for Wyatt to do it. He stared down at her, his gaze hot and heavy, as he watched her work herself open.

Always worth the price of admission.

“You were thinking?” Wyatt prompted, now that he knew she was occupied.

“Fuck you.”

“I thought that was the plan.”

Lucy kissed him to shut him up. This was the Wyatt she’d fallen in love with, the Wyatt she’d later lost behind the angry possessive bluster: the little shit, the playful puppy, the loyal man who looked to her and said, _lead the way_.

Wyatt got an arm around her waist and before she could do anything she was flipped over. She yelped, grabbing at him, and Wyatt chuckled against her collarbone before nudging her legs open with his knees.

She spread them even further, hooking one over his waist, her hands petting through his hair as he kissed her everywhere his mouth could reach. “I was just thinking,” she let out on a sigh, “that it’s okay however we got here.”

Wyatt paused, looking up at her, his blue eyes wide and focused.

“Because we spend all of our time going through history and trying to preserve things—and finding that even if things go differently in the middle, we still can get the same end result. We remember the Alamo. We get women’s rights. And so maybe, we did mess up. We rushed into things because we were lonely and hurting. And then maybe you messed it up more.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes, but fondly.

“But we got here.” Lucy cupped his face in her hands. “And we get to be here forever.”

The _forever_ part was more nebulous than she would have liked. But she wasn’t going to let go of that word. She would say it as many times, defy fate as many times, as she wanted to.

Wyatt’s eyes were wet as he moved forward, into her, kissing her, her arms and legs entwined around him.

They moved slowly, almost lazily, the kind of way that you could only move with someone when you trusted them and knew that you could do this any time you wanted. Lucy sighed her way into orgasm, feeling it drip into her slow and certain, building and then languidly spilling over into every part of her.

Wyatt turned his face into her neck, groaning, and thank God the bed was already a disaster from last night so that a little more mess didn’t matter.

They lay there for a moment, breathing together, and she couldn't help but think it had all been worth it. Would she go back and change some things if she could? Maybe. Maybe not. But ultimately she didn’t care so long as she got this: one boyfriend in her arms, the other making them coffee and planning on proposing.

“We can’t let him know that we know,” she said.

“He should’ve known better than to tell me,” Wyatt replied.

“You were hammered. I think he can be excused for thinking you’d forget it after everything else that went on.” Lucy’s smile spread wide across her face before she could stop it. Not that she wanted to stop it. “He’s going to be a massive dork about it.”

Wyatt grinned back at her. “Fuck yes he is.”

The bedroom door opened and Flynn peered in. “If you two want—oh for fuck’s sake.”

Lucy laughed, stretching out her hand, beckoning him in.

Flynn shook his head, smiling in exasperation.

But he came.


	23. A Lethal Dress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by a photo that extasiswings showed me of Abigail. In a particular dress. After my brain finished glitching and I was once more capable of speech, this was born.
> 
> You can see the dress here: https://www.instagram.com/p/BlNs3kOAEtG/
> 
> Also yes the chapter title is a line stolen from Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries.

Wyatt was doing that thing where he paced up and down because he was nervous and wanted to get to the party so that he could then leave the party early.

Flynn was sitting on the couch, arms folded, watching in amusement. “You know we’ve got plenty of time, right?”

“I could call in sick,” Wyatt replied.

“…at a dinner party where we’re the guests of honor.” Flynn put on a contemplative face. “That’s going to go really well.”

They had Rittenhouse’s backs to the wall, and so Agent Christopher had started a two-pronged attack. When they weren’t traveling through time, they were starting to use Rittenhouse’s favorite strategy of befriending politicians against them.

Especially now that they could travel on their own timeline.

Which meant that they now had to go to this fancy-ass party hosted in town. Their new bunker was on the east coast, partly so that they could now get to D.C. easily. Rufus and Jiya would be staying back in case the alert went off and they had to travel. Christopher would be traveling with them as their protection, while Mason manned the controls in the bunker.

“I just…” Wyatt huffed out a breath. “It would be better if I had a distraction, you know? Something to…”

He turned to look at Flynn, saw something over Flynn’s shoulder, and trailed off. His jaw went slack.

Flynn frowned, then turned to look over his shoulder.

Hngh.

This was what having a heart attack felt like.

Lucy stood in the doorway, smiling softly at both of them. “What?” she asked.

As if she didn’t know exactly what she was doing.

The thing was, traveling through time, they didn’t normally get a chance to show off in 21st century clothes. Flynn had seen Lucy in some gorgeous outfits from the 1940s, the 20s, and earlier. He hadn’t really been able to appreciate it at the time but he still remembered with fondness the dress she wore at Ford’s Theatre, the soft blue of it the perfect color for her.

But while Flynn had thought he’d gotten at least somewhat under control the way his breath stuttered when he saw Lucy in vintage clothing… he clearly hadn’t at all gotten used to her in a modern day, slinky, draping number like this one.

The neckline went… really far down. It draped open and… wow. Yeah. She was not wearing a bra with it.

The black of it made her hair look even darker, loose and flowing around her face, her makeup light but sophisticated.

Flynn was pretty sure if he turned around he’d see Wyatt’s eyes bulging out of his head.

“Well?” Lucy asked. “You boys ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Wyatt said. He sounded strangled.

Flynn had a feeling that Wyatt was operating on a different definition of ‘ready to go’ than Lucy was.

…although, given the look in her eye, maybe it was the same definition.

“Wonderful.” Lucy flicked her eyes over to Flynn. “Let’s get this show on the road then.”

Flynn looked over at Wyatt, who looked back at him as if to say _how the hell are we getting through this?_

“You did say you wanted a distraction,” Flynn pointed out.

 

* * *

 

Lucy had been waiting for months and months to wear this dress.

There was no reason for them to get dressed up. At the bunker they just wore jeans or sweats, and when they went back in time they wore whatever was appropriate for that period.

But now… now they were going to some stupid political shindig to get allies against Rittenhouse, and she could finally debut this.

She shivered a little when they got out of the car. The dress showed… a lot of skin. And it wasn’t exactly made out of wool. Flynn had been driving while Wyatt sat in the backseat, and she’d made a point of crossing and uncrossing her legs a few times.

Flynn had managed not to swerve the car but his hands had been gripping the steering wheel so hard she thought he’d cramp them.

“Remind me why I agreed to this again,” Wyatt muttered as they entered the party.

“Because I’ll make it worth your while?” Lucy replied. She leaned in, kissing his jaw, and then sauntered off to find the senator they were supposed to be schmoozing with.

She could feel Wyatt and Flynn’s hot gazes on her and she couldn’t help but smirk.

This was going to be fun.

 

* * *

 

“She’s trying to kill us,” Wyatt announced, finding Flynn at the drinks table. “I figured it out. She’s going to kill us and then collect the life insurance.”

“Wyatt, we’re not even legally married.”

“Then how do you explain what she’s doing?” Wyatt hissed.

What Lucy had been doing, Flynn had decided, went against the 8th Amendment.

She’d been touching her neck all night for one thing, sliding her fingertips down her throat, stopping just where her cleavage started. Not that she needed any more help drawing attention to it. The dress showed pretty much everything. She would trail her hands over Flynn any chance she could get and kept biting her lip when she looked at Wyatt, trailing her gaze all over the both of them, basically begging them to touch her—and they couldn’t.

She also kept playing with the hem of her dress when she sat down, inching it up just a little and then drawing it back down again. She’d tip her head back when she laughed, something she didn’t normally do, which only drew more attention to it and therefore to the long, pale line of skin that stopped halfway down her chest. She hadn't worn a necklace or even earrings, no jewelry to distract from the gorgeous skin on display.

And did she really have to keep standing so close to them? Flynn could smell her perfume, and even got a whiff of her strawberry shampoo at one point. She kept running her hands over her hips, her curves, touching herself the way that she knew they wanted to touch her.

It was maddening. There was no other word for it.

Other people had been looking too—Flynn could feel a growl rising in his chest just at the thought of it—but luckily Lucy’s first order of business had been to introduce Flynn as her husband (which he was, goddammit, even if not in the eyes of the law). Being six four and looking like a reformed mobster tended to intimidate people, so nobody had made a move on Lucy as far as either Flynn or Wyatt could see.

Flynn was pretty sure half the guests now thought Lucy was cheating on him with Wyatt, though, given how badly Wyatt was hiding how Lucy affected him.

“I got us a meeting,” Lucy whispered, walking up and promptly smoothing her hand down Flynn’s tie. Off of his look, she just smile. “What? It was crooked.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” Flynn told her, “I’d say you were asking for it.”

Lucy shrugged, her eyes dark, hooded. “Maybe I am.”

Wyatt made a strangled noise and she glanced over at him, grinning wickedly. “I could always sing, you know.”

“I could always have an aneurysm, y’know,” Wyatt shot back.

Lucy braced her hands on the table, leaning back, her legs spreading just the slightest bit. “I mean, we have accomplished what we were sent here to do.”

“We need to stay a little longer,” Flynn said automatically. “There are other people we can make contact with. If we leave right after we set up the meeting it’ll look suspicious. We have to keep making nice.”

“This is why my captain never had me go to the state dinners,” Wyatt grumbled.

“If only there was some way you could be properly rewarded,” Lucy told him. She glanced around, and when she saw nobody was looking at them, she reached out and trailed her fingers along the line of Wyatt’s collar, tugging ever so slightly.

Flynn could literally see Wyatt’s brain glitching. “Is that how I look?” he asked.

“Yes,” Lucy replied.

Since the whole choking thing, Lucy had shamelessly abused her newfound knowledge and would trail her fingers down Wyatt’s throat or brush them against his neck.

…okay so Flynn did the same thing. Sue him. It made Wyatt go boneless and that was always fun.

Wyatt batted Lucy’s hand away. “You’re supposed to be married to tall dark and handsome, remember?”

“Maybe we’re in an open relationship,” Lucy replied, pouting.

Wyatt looked to Flynn in a silent plea for help. Lucy then looked at Flynn as well, biting her lip. “Or maybe I’m trying to get him all riled up for later,” she added.

Oh, later? She thought at this point he had the patience for _later_?

He glanced over at Wyatt. “Think you can handle being on your own for fifteen minutes?”

“Only fifteen?” Wyatt smirked.

“You really want to play the stamina game again?” Flynn asked, a growl entering his voice.

Wyatt swallowed hard. “Is it bad if I answer yes?”

Lucy gave a put upon sigh, then walked over to the bathroom. She paused at the door, looking over her shoulder.

That was a _get your ass over here_ look if Flynn ever saw one.

“However long it takes you,” Wyatt said, “I bet you I can beat it.”

“Deal.”

Flynn could feel people moving out of his way as he stalked after Lucy. Everyone probably knew exactly what was about to happen in this bathroom, but he really didn’t give a damn at this point.

When he slipped in, closing and locking the door behind him, Lucy was standing against the opposite while. She gave him a ghost of a smile, then slowly took the hem of her dress in her hand and raised it up, exposing every inch of her legs.

Exposing the fact that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath her dress at all.

He was across the small bathroom before he even realized he was moving, his hands at her waist as he kissed her. Lucy made a pleased noise into his mouth, her hand reaching up to take a hold of his hair.

“You are a very bad woman, Lucy Preston,” he told her, kissing his way down her neck.

Lucy kept her hand in his hair, guiding him down a little farther to her breasts. The dress made it easy for him to slide the fabric out of the way and Lucy arched, shivering happily as he got his hands and mouth on them. “Mmm, and you were both so good, I wondered how long it would take you two to snap.”

She pushed him down onto his knees, spreading her legs and hitching the skirt up just that bit farther. Flynn took one of her legs and hitched it over his shoulder, glancing up to see the expression on her face. Lucy’s eyes were almost black, her chest heaving, her body tight with anticipation.

“Go on then,” she told him, digging into his shoulder a little with the heel of her shoe. “What was it you said? Fifteen minutes?”

Flynn grinned up at her. “You want to set your watch?”

Lucy probably had something sassy to say in reply, but he didn’t give her the chance. His mouth had been watering for her since he’d first seen her in that goddamn dress and he was not waiting a moment longer.

She was already so wet when he licked into her, shuddering above him. She’d been turned on by this game too, goading them, leaving them breadcrumbs so that they’d be desperate for her. Her hand tightened in his hair, and he thought he saw her brace her other one on the sink. Her legs started shaking almost immediately, and Flynn knew she could feel when he grinned against her skin.

“Do you know,” she gasped, “what I’ve been thinking all night? While—while talking—ah, while talking to—I kept thinking one of you could just—lift up my skirt and touch me, slide right in, and I wanted—” She laughed breathlessly, then moaned. “Nobody knows you’re the two most dangerous men in that room, nobody knows, and you—I just have to crook my finger and you’ll—do, whatever, I say, and I just—oh fuck Garcia—”

He sucked hard, fluttering his tongue the way that drove her crazy, and Lucy clapped her hand over her mouth, muffling the loud, half-gasp, half-cry she made as she came.

Flynn meant for that to be the end, really, had only meant to give her a taste of her own medicine, but then Lucy was yanking him back up to standing, pulling him over and hopping up onto the counter, grabbing at his belt.

“You’re just as bad with your stupid suits, you know,” she informed him, and then they were kissing and Lucy was guiding him inside of her and he really couldn’t say no to any of it.

Not that he wanted to.

She kept kissing him, like she wanted to devour him, her legs wrapped around him. And he had a feeling that the people outside this room—save for one—thought that he was in here teaching his wife a lesson, but he knew the truth. She was a spider and he and Wyatt were flies and he had never been so glad to be caught.

“Too bad I’m not wearing pants,” Lucy whispered afterwards. “I wouldn’t have to clean up that way.”

“A _very_ bad woman,” he told her, pushing the words into her mouth right before she kissed him again.

Lucy grinned, delighted. “And you love it.”

 

* * *

 

Lucy couldn’t have kept the triumphant grin off her face if she’d tried when they approached Wyatt.

He raked his gaze over her, able to take in the little changes—the way her chest still heaved a little, the way her lipstick was fainter in color, the slight tremor in her legs as she walked, the shadow of a hickey on her breast, just hidden enough by the dress to make someone wonder if they were just seeing things.

Wyatt looked like he was in danger of snapping the stem of the wine glass he was holding.

Lucy gently took it out of his hand. There was only so far she could push either man before they reached their breaking point, and Wyatt was just about to hit his. “Why don’t you two take me home, hmm?” she suggested, looking up at Wyatt through her lashes, Flynn a wall of heat at her back.

Wyatt glanced at Flynn, and she didn’t even need to turn to look at her other husband to know they’d just silently concocted a plan.

“Let’s do that,” Flynn agreed.

When they got to the car, instead of letting her climb into the front passenger seat, Wyatt wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her in and kiss her, leading her backwards towards the back seat.

Lucy let him open the car door for her and then slid in, grabbing him by the tie and yanking him in after her. “Those people definitely know we’re at least sharing you,” Flynn noted, starting up the car.

“I saw you looking at Wyatt’s ass, they know it’s all three of us,” Lucy replied.

Without further ado she climbed into Wyatt’s lap—but he wouldn’t let her settle, neatly flipping her around so that her back was to his chest instead.

Oh, was that how it was going to be? Lucy spread her legs as Wyatt slid his hands up her thighs, pushing the dress up.

She ground her ass against Wyatt’s lap, grinning when he groaned helplessly. “You’ve been so good,” she assured him. He’d wanted to jump her from the moment he’d seen her in that dress, she knew—as had Flynn. And they’d put up with her teasing them all night long.

She tipped her head back until she and Wyatt could kiss, and then one hand was stealing down her chest and the other was moving right up between her legs.

Lucy moaned into his mouth, still slick and open from when Flynn had fucked her. She hadn’t come that time, still riding the high from when he’d eaten her out, but she’d wanted him inside of her and hadn’t cared so much about the rest.

“Slow down, Wyatt,” Flynn instructed from the front seat, his voice taking on that authoritative edge it only got when he was ordering Wyatt.

He was always so good for her, Lucy sometimes forgot that Flynn was generally looked at as someone who took command. And he did, with Wyatt and if the situation called for it in a mission. But when she was around…

Well.

Wyatt immediately withdrew his hand from between her legs, resting it on her thigh instead. His other hand still roamed over her chest, though, palming her breasts and trailing his fingers up to her throat and back down again.

She looked up to see Flynn watching them in the rearview mirror as he drove, glancing back whenever he was able. It helped that it was late and there were next to no cars on the road.

“Take a picture,” she told him. “It’ll last longer.”

“Maybe I should,” Flynn shot back.

Now, there was an idea.

Lucy moaned as Wyatt placed slow, sucking kisses down her neck, arching her back. She was putting on a little bit of a show for Flynn, but he knew it and she knew he didn’t care. She gripped the back of his head, keeping him there, his mouth driving her almost crazier than the hands he had inside her dress.

She almost wanted to tell Flynn to pull over and have Wyatt fuck her by the side of the road. They’d do it, too, if she told them to.

But, no, she liked this. There was always next time.

“You want to tell him how to do it?” she offered. “Tell him how to touch me, Flynn.”

Flynn glanced back at them again. “Spread her legs,” he ordered Wyatt.

She felt Wyatt shudder underneath her, getting off on being told what to do just as much as he was getting off on having her in his arms. He slid his hands over her thighs and slowly spread them open. Lucy let out a little whine in the back of her throat. She wanted to be touched so badly. Being with Flynn in the bathroom had just been the first course.

Although it was entirely possible that she was also getting spoiled.

“Just one finger,” Flynn instructed.

Wyatt rubbed slowly at her clit, teasing her, just starting to slide his finger inside and then retreating, until Lucy was thrusting her hips minutely, trying to get more of him.

He bit her lightly on the neck just as he slid the finger inside completely, crooking it just so, and Lucy thought the entire lower half of her body might have melted just then.

She forced herself to look at the rearview mirror, to meet Flynn’s eyes every time he looked back at them, even as she clutched at Wyatt with more and more desperation.

“You can go for two,” Flynn told him. “Keep teasing her. You like that, right Lucy?”

Lucy hummed in agreement, Wyatt’s mouth all over every part of her that he could reach, the dirty-perfect sound of his fingers moving in and out of her filling the car. She complained about it but mmm, yes, she did appreciate a good build up.

She tilted Wyatt’s head down to kiss her properly again, curling her tongue around his and reveling in the pained noise he made in response. “Just wait until we get home,” she promised him. “We won’t even make it to the bed, will we Garcia?”

Flynn growled, his eyes going back to them, watching, always watching. “Add a third finger but don’t let her come, Wyatt.”

Lucy groaned. “Oh, now, that’s just cruel.”

“You were silently begging us to fuck you for three hours and we couldn’t. That’s cruel.”

Wyatt made a noise of agreement with Flynn but couldn’t do more than that since Lucy’s tongue was down his throat again.

He was true to his word, though, and when she started to tighten up, he would slide his fingers out, go back to just one or two, slow down, stop touching her clit. He was playing her like a goddamn upright bass and she both loved and hated him for it.

Lucy gave a frustrated growl, sinking her teeth into his throat, licking at what was definitely going to be a fantastic bite mark. Wyatt shuddered, and she could feel how hard he was under her, knew he was pretty desperate himself.

Flynn must have noticed it too. “We’re almost home,” he reassured Wyatt. “Go ahead, let her come.”

Lucy was going to say something along the lines of _it’s about time asshole why did I ever marry your smug ass_ but Wyatt was touching her again, hard and fast, his fingers at that perfect angle, and she could only gasp helplessly as she absolutely soaked her dress and Wyatt’s hand.

This was going to be an interesting dry cleaning bill to explain to Denise.

The car rolled to a stop and Lucy opened her eyes, not even aware until that moment that she’d closed them. “Garcia, this isn’t the bunker.”

“Do I look like I care?” Flynn replied, throwing the car into park.

Lucy grinned, reaching forward and grabbing Flynn by his tie. “Then get your ass back here, handsome.”

 

* * *

 

“Must’ve been a fun party last night,” Jiya commented the next morning.

“What makes you say that?” Lucy asked, rubbing idly at her sore neck. She’d slept funny.

Jiya shrugged. “Oh, nothing. Just the way you three showed up back here at four in the morning, giggling like idiots. Oh, and you were…” Jiya smirked at her. “Well.”

Jiya’s gaze drifted down to Lucy’s chest and then back up again. She winked.

Lucy had been wearing just her thin nightgown, the one that was a bit low cut. She hadn’t even looked at herself in the mirror yet.

She glanced down at her chest.

One, two, three… oh no.

A moment later the shout of “ _Ten!?_ ” was heard echoing through the bunker, followed by, “Ow, hey, you—you were asking for—ow!” and “You can’t blame me, Garcia _told_ me to.”

“You gonna tell them Denise knows they had sex in the car last night?” Rufus asked Jiya as she passed him a cup of coffee.

“Why ruin the surprise?” she replied, sipping nonchalantly.

"Things like that," Rufus assured her, "are why I love you."


	24. Photo Album

The first one was rather innocuous.

It was Lucy, half draped in a bed sheet, lying on her stomach, eyes closed in sleep. She had one arm reaching out, stretched across the bed—over the spot where Flynn usually rested. She was alone in the bed, though, in the picture.

The second one was a little less innocent.

It was Wyatt and Lucy, Lucy on top of him, legs spread. The bed sheet covered most of them, but their forms could be seen underneath the sheet and it was pretty clear they weren’t just cuddling. They were smiling at each other, Lucy’s hands playfully pinning Wyatt’s hands to the bed on either side of Wyatt’s head.

They continued on like that for a while, bed sheets and shadows and body parts hiding the worst of it. There was one especially cheeky one where Flynn was peering up at the camera through his lashes while sitting up in bed, reading the newspaper. The sheet was spread over his lap, and the newspaper blocked just enough, but it was clear from the way the sheet was draped over the second form that someone was under the sheet, sucking him off.

Whether it was Lucy or Wyatt was decided by how broad the shoulders of the body under the sheet were. They were far too wide to be Lucy’s.

There was another one, this time Lucy spread out, her hands clutching the hand rails, her dark hair spread out—as were her legs under the sheet. She was looking directly up into the camera as well, her gaze that of the cat with its paw in the cream who regretted nothing. Someone was under the sheet with her too, between her legs. Flynn, going by the fact that his feet were sticking out from under the covers at the end of the bed, his height just a little too much for the length of it.

Quite a few were of them in the process of getting undressed. One was Lucy, standing, her leg braced on a chair, Flynn kissing her thigh as he slid her pantyhose down her leg. Another had Lucy fucking Wyatt on the couch while they were still fully clothed, her dress hitched up and just his pants undone, his tie wrapped firmly around her hand. One particularly artsy one was Flynn and Wyatt—and obviously so—but lit in such a way that it was just the black forms, like a silhouette picture, an anonymous image. Lucy’d even been fortunate enough (although it was not obvious to the viewer) to catch the moment they’d been coming.

After a while, though, they got even bolder.

There was one of Flynn and Lucy in the shower. He was lifting her up against the wall, the water pouring over them, her legs wrapped around his waist. His mouth was at her throat and her head was tipped back, her eyes closed, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

The next one was Flynn, his arms wrapped around Wyatt from behind, stroking Wyatt’s cock as Wyatt braced one arm against the wall. The men had their faces turned towards one another, their mouths open, Flynn’s tongue licking at Wyatt’s lips. Interestingly, Flynn was the one not wearing any clothes. Wyatt’s pants were undone, his shirt rumpled, but it was all still on.

Lucy starred in quite a few, wearing all sorts of lingerie—especially vintage. Corsets were exhausting to wear all day but for a quick photoshoot, they made for fantastic photos. She gazed frankly at the camera, teasing the photographer, but not coy. Not at all ashamed. Many were black and white, playing with shadows, but others were in glorious color.

A few were taken from the point of view of one of the participants. There was one that Lucy had obviously taken. Wyatt was between her legs, his head risen up slightly from where he’d been licking at her, one of her hands in his hair. In another, Flynn had taken the photo, aiming it at Lucy as she was on top of him, riding him.

Most were combinations of two at first, or just one person. Wyatt had one where he was in the shower, cock in hand, gazing shyly up at the camera. Lucy had her hand down her pants in another, her other hand tugging on a fistful of her own hair. Flynn was always smirking at the camera in the ones where he was alone, clearly putting on a show for whoever was taking the photo. In one of them he was full on grinning, like one of the others had said something funny right before the photo was snapped, his eyes bright, the sheets tangled around his legs as he stroked himself.

A few of the coyer ones were stuck in with the rest. There was one where Wyatt was in the middle of pushing Lucy’s shirt up and over her head, and another where Flynn had Wyatt pressed up against the wall, one leg slid between Wyatt’s, Wyatt’s arms around his neck as they stared at each other. One where Lucy was in a negligee, bending over, looking over her shoulder at the camera and giving an _I know exactly what you’re doing_ look.

Of course, to make up for the coy ones, there were some that were downright damning. Lucy had persuaded Wyatt to take a few pictures of when she and Flynn were doing their restraint sessions. Most of them were Flynn, since Lucy was only rarely tied up, but the ones where she was, Flynn was clearly showing off his knot-tying skills. There was another one where Wyatt was gripping the back of a chair, knuckles white, Flynn sitting in the chair across the kitchen table, vibrator remote control in hand. And another one, from when Lucy was giving one of her lap dances, this time to Wyatt instead of Flynn. The red scraps of lace she was wearing left precious little to the imagination.

Finally, towards the back, it got into the ones where it was all three of them.

They’d obviously set up a tripod of some kind and put the camera on a timer. One of them was similar to the one of Lucy on top of Flynn, but this time Wyatt was behind her, one hand between her legs and the other at her breast, his mouth at her neck.

Lucy’s favorite was the one where both of them were inside of her. Wyatt was in front of her, Flynn behind her, and the shot had caught her right when she’d twisted her face around to kiss Flynn. It was before she’d kissed him, so her face wasn’t obscured. All of what she was feeling in that moment, the two of them sliding inside of her, alongside each other, their hands all over her, stretched and filled to the point of shivering overstimulation—it was plainly written on her face.

She had her eyes half open and was looking at the camera. Not quite directly, and she hadn’t been intending to do that in the moment. But she loved it. Loved how that moment of pleasure was preserved for all eternity, loved the way it showed off the two men in front and behind her, Wyatt’s mouth at her temple, Flynn’s hand reaching across Lucy to tangle in Wyatt’s hair.

Flynn’s favorite was the one where he was inside of Wyatt, and Wyatt was eating Lucy out while she sat on the bed, ordering them around. Her underwear was tangled around her ankle, her leg hooked over Wyatt’s shoulder, her corset showing how her chest was heaving. She even still had heels on, her hair and makeup done

The way she was dressed and done up, the look of sharp command in her eyes, compared to his and Wyatt’s nakedness, the clear energy between them—there was no doubt who was in control in that picture.

Wyatt’s favorite was the one where he and Flynn were on their knees, Flynn behind him, both of them naked. Wyatt was fucking Lucy who was on her back, but it was Flynn’s hand firmly around his throat, Wyatt's ear gently but firmly between his teeth, and the expression of sheer, close-eyed bliss on Lucy’s face that made that picture the one he kept returning to look at.

There were quite a lot of them in various positions, some with clothes partially on, some with them entirely naked, nothing left to the viewer’s imagination. A surprising number had one or more of them smiling.

The ones at the back were the kissing ones. It would have been odd, to the casual viewer, why such sweet photographs were after the most risqué ones.

Not that all the pictures were PG. There were quite a few that were smoldering, like one where Wyatt and Lucy had been swing dancing and he dipped her and she practically devoured him. Or the one that was a close-up of Flynn and Wyatt in the shower, the camera only inches from their faces, their tongues clearly sliding against one another. Or when Lucy had Flynn’s bottom lip caught between her teeth, their arms wrapped around each other.

But there were softer ones. Flynn and Wyatt each kissing one of Lucy’s cheeks as she smiled so hard her eyes squished shut. Flynn kissing Lucy’s hand. Wyatt pressing a soft kiss to Flynn’s neck as they cuddled in bed.

The meaning was clear, though, if one was to ask the three people who made the album.

In their world, what could be more intimate than the emotions that the kisses revealed?

Anyone could have sex with anyone else. But the way that they looked at each other in those last photos, the soft intimacy of the kisses they bestowed on each other…

There was no denying the depth of their feelings in those photos.

The last one was of all three of them naked. Flynn was propped up on his elbow and looking down, grinning in perfect happiness down at Lucy, who was giggling wildly. Wyatt had his head on Lucy’s stomach and was smiling broadly, up at Flynn. They were all holding hands.

They’d forgotten to turn off the timer after that session, so the camera had snapped several post-sex shots. Including that one.

“These are amazing,” Jiya noted, flipping through.

“Oh I know, look at the angle I got on this one,” Lucy said, pointing. “I had to crouch down and balance the camera on my elbows.”

“Daaaaaaamn.”

“Excellent use of perspective,” Denise said, leaning over their shoulders.

Both women jumped a mile and Lucy nearly spilled her coffee. “Ah. Thank you. Um. Agent Christopher. Ma’am.”

Denise just smirked at them and walked away.

There was a pause.

“…you thought about doing videos?”

Lucy grinned. “That’s my next suggestion to them.”

Jiya gave her a high five.

Lucy smiled down at the photos. Others might not understand, but, in their world...

They needed all the reminders, all the tangible evidence, that they could get.


	25. Evolution

Lucy moaned, clawing at Flynn, unable to get the leverage that she wanted.

She was on her side in his arms, his hand between her legs as he thrust inside of her, short and sharp and sweet. She tilted her head up and back, trying to catch his mouth with hers, trying to get him to fuck her harder, rougher.

Flynn was in a mood, though. And Lucy was too far gone, too lost in the slick knife’s edge of pleasure to really pull away and pin him to the bed.

She’d been finding lately that she enjoyed that. If she wasn’t goading him into fucking her hard against the wall, she liked to be on top, liked to hold him down a little. She couldn’t really, he was far stronger than she was, but he let her and the thrill that shot through her when that happened was a gut-punch of a turn on.

“Flynn come _on_ ,” she moaned, managing to catch his mouth long enough to bite at it.

Flynn growled at her but didn’t speed up, didn’t move any harder, just kept fucking her with those perfectly angled little thrusts while he rubbed relentlessly at her clit.

It took her far longer to come than she wanted but she also couldn’t complain that she hadn’t enjoyed herself the entire time because she had, little _uh_ sounds emerging from the back of her throat. She came on a desperate whine, clawing at Flynn’s arms, her breath punched out of her.

She hummed in pleasure, feeling Flynn come as well, his arms tightening around her, his face buried into the side of her neck.

Lucy rolled over, ready to kiss Flynn and then get up to hop in the shower, but Flynn’s hold stayed tight and when she tried to kiss him he pulled away, searching her face. “Are you all right?”

“I’ll give you a hint: those were happy sounds,” Lucy replied dryly.

Flynn rolled his eyes at her.

They still hadn’t talked about what they were, either in this relationship or to each other. Flynn had halfheartedly tried a couple of times but she’d shut him down.

She couldn’t do that all over again. She couldn’t talk with him and admit to him how she felt, how she—and then lose him. She wasn’t strong enough for that.

But they’d found a kind of… not lightheartedness, exactly, but something close to it.

“It wasn’t how we usually do things,” Flynn pointed out.

Lucy shrugged. “Different is fine.”

“But you wanted it rougher.”

Lucy suddenly found that she couldn’t look Flynn in the eye.

Her time with Wyatt had been sweet—sugar sweet, thick like honey, lingering like maple syrup, decadent like chocolate. And she did want that with Flynn, too, she did. Because she did like things rough and she did like a bit of name calling and she definitely liked it when ropes or cuffs got involved but she also liked the lazy morning sex. The cuddly in front of the fire sex. The late night _oh hello_ sex.

But if she did that with Flynn, it would be as good as admitting how she felt. And then she’d lose him. It was just how the universe worked.

“Hey.” Flynn’s voice was gentle. “I’m okay with rough. But sometimes I think you—I’m not going to hurt you, Lucy. I can’t.”

She gave him a look and pointed to the vicious hickey on her neck. “Do you know how much makeup I’m going to need to use to cover this?”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” Flynn said. “I’m not talking about a bite or a bit of spanking. Sometimes I think you want me to really hurt you and I won’t do that. I can’t hurt you.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Lucy ran a hand through her hair, sighing. She supposed that they were due this conversation anyway. “Look, could we at least talk about this in the shower?”

Flynn nodded, his gaze dark and a little cautious.

Once in the shower, she let him wash her back and hair, smiling and leaning back into him as he carefully massaged her scalp. “So, what do you want me to do?” Flynn asked.

Lucy sighed. She should’ve known he wouldn’t be distracted from this.

It wasn’t that she was uncomfortable talking about sex and kink. Far from it. But this strayed too close to what she wanted in a relationship, too close to what she was feeling.

“I like restraints,” she said. “And I think you do too. You like it when I hold you down.”

Flynn hummed and she felt him nod, his soapy hands slowly moving down her body. It was sensual but not fully seductive, more just enjoying feeling each other rather than a precursor to round two. “You’re correct.”

“I do… like it rougher, but I’m okay with… with gentle, if you ever want that.” She quickly buried her head under the spray to wash it, hoping it would hide her face from him.

When she emerged again, she turned to face him. “But I’m not into pain play. Or like… fetish gear. I’m sorry if I made you think that I wanted you to hurt me. I like the hickeys, I like getting marked up a bit, but nothing like that.”

Flynn nodded.

Lucy could sense that there was something he wasn’t telling her. “What?”

“Have you ever thought about whether you were dominant or submissive?” Flynn asked.

She hadn’t expected that question. “Um… with women I’m definitely submissive.”

Flynn got a playfully speculative gleam in his eye. “Your interactions with historical women make a lot more sense now.”

“Oh, hush.” Lucy considered. “With men… I don’t know?”

She’d tried sleeping with Noah a couple times, to see how it was, back when she’d been trying to be the fiancée she thought he deserved. It had been… fine. With Wyatt it had been pretty equal. She’d let him be on top but he’d been pretty open to her guiding things along as well. More open than she’d expected, actually.

Before that, she couldn’t really remember specifics. Sex was good most of the time, mediocre sometimes, bad once or twice, amazing fewer times than it should have been. Most of the men she’d been with wanted to be in charge, dominant, and so she’d let them be.

“I guess I’m submissive?”

Flynn frowned at her. “Because you want to be or because you think that’s what your partner wants you to be?”

That threw her. “Why are you asking?”

Flynn actually started blushing a little and stared intently at the shower tiles. “Just… a vibe that I get from you.”

“Oh?”

He shrugged. “You, ah, you seem to naturally want to tell me what to do. You like to be on top, you like to pin my hands down. You like to tease me and make me ask you for things.”

“Do you not like that?”

“I definitely like it. I’m just wondering if you realize that you’re doing it.”

…did she?

She hadn’t realized that she was doing all of those things. Or that she was doing them with such a… commanding air. “What about you?” she challenged, feeling wrong footed, her skin tingling.

“I can do whatever,” Flynn replied. “With the right person I want to dominate, with the right person I want to submit. I do… I do need to be, ah, submissive, now and again. To let go that way. Otherwise I… I get too tightly wound.”

Lucy could definitely see that happening. “Would you want—do you need me to help you with that?”

“Possibly.” Flynn said it lightly, like she was an animal that might spook.

Lucy nodded. She hadn’t ever been afraid of being sexually adventurous before and she wasn’t about to start now. “Okay. I can do that. I think.”

“We’ll work up to it,” Flynn replied, giving her that small, crooked smile of his.

Lucy smothered the urge to kiss him and made him turn around instead so she could wash his back.

And if the idea of him placing that much trust in her hit a little too close to the things she wasn’t saying—

She’d deal with that later.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t like she’d been unaware the whole time that something was a bit lacking in her relationships with men.

She’d always thought it just meant that she wasn’t meeting the right person. And that casual misogyny came into play more often than she would have liked (re: at all).

But now that Flynn had brought it up, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

About how most of her sexual run-ins with men had been… not quite as fulfilling as they possibly could or should have been.

Her college boyfriend, for one. Eric. Great guy, but he’d been pretty dominant in bed and so she’d just gone along with it. Been submissive, let him set the pace of things, because that was what he seemed to want and she’d been in love with him and hey, he could eat her out like a pro so.

After they’d broken up she’d made a series of bad decisions i.e. several one night stands. She’d figured out along the way that she liked being called a slut, liked it a little rough, but she hadn’t ever really enjoyed any of it. She’d thought that it was just because she was getting over a broken heart, but now she wondered if maybe it was because being treated as the passive partner, or as the one taking orders, wasn’t what she needed.

It was what she needed from Sara. Her college girlfriend, and the one who’d gotten Lucy into the whole restraint thing. Maybe it was just that women were more willing to talk about these things, in Lucy’s experience, but she’d figured out what she wanted a lot more quickly with Sara than she had with any men she’d been with.

So, she was submissive with women. Surely that meant she was just submissive in general, right? And that all those times with men were just… incompatibility or a broken heart or being drunk or any number of excuses she could throw out?

But when she thought about the times with men that had been really, really good…

Like Wyatt, how he’d followed her instructions when she’d told him to slow down, to speed up, harder, kiss me like you mean it.

Or Ben in high school, who hadn’t had much experience so she’d told him to touch her like this, move like that, hold still, that’s it, good job.

The times she’d had the most fun, she realized, were the times she was in charge. Or at least equal instead of submissive.

And she did like it when she got to tell Flynn what to do. When she threaded her fingers through his head and pushed down until he got on his knees, his dark eyes watching her, waiting for her to tell him when to start licking at her. Or when they were fucking and she demanded that he touch her _now_ and he did so immediately.

Maybe…

Maybe there was more to this than she’d initially thought.

 

* * *

 

The first time she slept with Wyatt and Flynn together she’d been in such a head rush she hadn’t even noticed how she’d taken control.

But then she looked back at how she’d pinned Flynn’s arms to the couch, ordered him and Wyatt around. The way she’d talked to Wyatt towards the end, praised him, told him to come and he _had_.

She’d felt so in control there. So powerful. So… right.

“I think you were right,” she admitted to Flynn.

They were lounging around in bed, Wyatt dead to the world on one side, Flynn on the other.

“About what?”

“About the… being dominant thing. Don’t look so smug,” she added, narrowing her eyes and pointing at him.

“I’m not,” Flynn replied, a smug expression on his face.

“I like telling you what to do,” she admitted. “And… and holding you down.”

“You realize there are ways to do that without using your hands constantly.”

“Are you suggesting we engage in that… restraint sort of thing that you talked about?”

“You’ve done it before?”

“With my college girlfriend. She was the dom, though.”

“So you’ve never been the one tying people up.”

“I know how to do knots and I know how it works on the dominant side… in theory.”

“And you’re sure you want to try it. Not just because it’s what I want, or what Wyatt wants.”

They both looked over at Wyatt, who was still sleeping, completely oblivious.

“ _Il est un soumis si j’en ai jamais vu un_ ,” Flynn noted.

Lucy nodded in agreement, then turned back to look at Flynn. “It’s not because it’s what you or Wyatt wants. Although—that is a part of it, but I wouldn’t say that I wanted it if that was the case. I’d say that I wanted to do it for you. But this is something I think I want to do for myself, too.”

Flynn gently brushed her hair out of her face, and it was moments like these that she couldn’t believe how she’d ever missed the devotion in his eyes. “We can go slowly. You’re already sort of taking charge. Telling us what to do, praising Wyatt. We can just up the ante a bit.”

Lucy nodded. She could do that. Slow but steady.

 

* * *

 

It took her longer than it should have to notice how much Flynn enjoyed doing what she told him.

Wyatt was obvious. It was easy to be in control of him, easier than she’d expected. It just seemed to spring out of her.

One time they were kissing, getting undressed, and she’d pulled back to sit on the bed and spread her legs and told him, “How about you get over here and lick me open?”

Wyatt had gone bright red, blurted out, “yes ma’am,” and nearly tripped over his own feet getting to her.

Flynn, though, was quieter about it. Lucy hesitated to say ‘dignified’, because it wasn’t quite that. It was more… measured. Deliberate.

Flynn didn’t usually run to her or start blabbering or blush. But when she told him to do something he would do it, without hesitation, and she could see how his breath caught in his chest and his eyes went dark and wide.

Wyatt responded best to words, but with Flynn, she could just touch him and he’d go. She could dig the heel of her foot into his shoulder and he’d bend down between her legs, nuzzling along her thigh. She’d tug on his shirt and he’d step in, tilting his head so that she could kiss him how she pleased.

It was intoxicating.

The rush that she got when one or both of them did as she instructed was like a jolt straight through her system. Like getting food when she hadn’t even known she’d been hungry. She couldn’t believe it had taken her so long to figure out, but now that she knew, she never wanted to go back to the way things were before.

Not that either man seemed eager to change the status quo.

Every time she would push a little further, worried she was going too far. That she’d finally cross a line. But each time she got nothing but a happy, enthusiastic response.

When she whispered in Wyatt’s ear to hold still, be a good boy, let Flynn fuck him, Wyatt shuddered and nearly came right then and there.

When she sank down onto Flynn and told him not to come until she told him to, he did. And when she purposefully left her laptop open on a shopping page for different handcuff sets, all she got in response was a Post-It note that said, _the red ones, and you could’ve just asked, cher._

The first time with the cuffs, she was so nervous that Flynn had to talk her down for ten minutes.

She felt so stupid. She knew how this went. She’d done it dozens of times. But being on the receiving end and trusting your partner was so different from being in charge and trusting that you wouldn’t fuck it up—and that your partner would tell you if you were.

But Flynn didn’t judge her or tease her. “Here, just c’mere,” he told her.

Lucy obligingly straddled his chest, carefully running her hands over his arms, up to where his hands were cuffed to the bed and then back down to his shoulders again.

“We’ll just start with kissing,” Flynn told her. “All right?”

She nodded. She wanted so badly to do it all, she wanted to tell him how to fuck her, how to touch her, she wanted to see him restrained like this while she rode him, while she got to do whatever she wanted to him—but she was also terrified of doing it wrong.

They worked up from kissing, then, just making out the first time. Then the next time after that she blew him, taking her sweet time, trying not to smile too hard as Flynn shook underneath her.

When she finally got the courage to fuck him, really fuck him, telling him how and when and where, she came so hard it was like getting hit by a freight train. A freight train made of electricity. Right between her thighs.

It got a lot easier after that.

Flynn was always patient with her when she got worried. When she freaked out and thought she’d gone too far. One time, Flynn made a noise that sounded like he was in pain and she’d blurted out the safe word and stopped everything, nearly hyperventilating, thinking she’d genuinely hurt him.

Flynn hadn’t laughed at her, hadn’t gotten irritated. He’d just soothed her, assured her that he was fine, Lucy, it’s all fine. I’m okay.

Another time, early on in the proceedings, Flynn safeworded out—just to show her that he would and could, if he had to.

She didn’t tell him, but she’d cried with relief that night in the shower.

But as time went on her fears receded, and it just became natural. Natural to tell the boys what she wanted and what to do. Natural to lean in and whisper in Flynn’s ear, “hope you’re ready for a long night,” and warn Wyatt that unless he wanted to watch he’d better read his book in the living room. Natural to be the one that they looked to for instructions, for ideas.

She loved how different they were. How Wyatt liked it when she talked dirty to him and how he liked to show off for her, but Flynn liked it when she just pushed or pulled him into position and how something in him just went soft and relaxed when he was restrained. She liked how Wyatt was greedy and constant, but Flynn only needed it sometimes, how he took longer and needed a more deliberate, patient hand.

Possibly most of all, though, she loved how it made her feel. How it filled the puzzle piece that she hadn’t known was missing. How it made her feel in control and powerful when the rest of their world, when their line of work, tried to take that feeling away from her. She loved the confidence it gave her, knowing that no matter what she’d once thought, she was a leader. She could be in command. And she had two men hanging on her every whim to prove it.

She loved Wyatt and Flynn. She loved doing this for them, with them, to them. But she’d loved them long before she’d discovered this side of herself. This hadn’t changed anything.

What it had changed, was that it helped her love herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flynn's French translates to: He's a submissive if I ever saw one.


	26. Leather

The thing was, Flynn hadn’t actually meant to start anything.

He’d always been fond of a good leather jacket and so when Denise had been ever so kind as to give him a credit card during the jail break (along with the keycard to get out, the key to the evidence locker so he could get his personal effects back, the map and the gas mask) he’d stopped by the first nice department store and had gone shopping.

For, oh, about an hour.

To say Denise was displeased when she’d seen the bill was an understatement but hey. He had a new leather jacket.

And new pants and several sweaters and some sweet ties and a pair of awesome jeans and shoes and a suit and cufflinks but really who was counting (besides Denise)?

It was damn cold inside the bunker now that it was properly autumn but not quite cold enough for heavy winter gear, and he’d been working outside on Wyatt’s Christmas present, so he’d had the jacket on along with the leather gloves that he’d gotten with them (what, coordination was important) and then he’d gone inside to get breakfast.

Morning was the only time he could get away with working on the present, otherwise Wyatt would be awake and wondering where he was. Lucy, who knew about the present, of course already knew where he was but she was a horrible liar.

He’d come inside, gone to start up the coffee maker, and had found a cup already waiting for him.

“Thanks,” he had called over to Lucy and Wyatt. And that was when it happened.

Both his spouses were on the couch. Wyatt was half dozing, lying down, his head in Lucy’s lap while she sat up reading a book and making notes.

Then Lucy looked up.

And promptly dropped her book onto Wyatt’s head.

“Ow!” Wyatt sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “Honey, what the—” Then he saw Flynn.

Wyatt’s eyes went wide.

“What?” Flynn looked down, double checking that there wasn’t any car oil or grease left on his clothes. If Wyatt guessed what his present was this early in the game, Flynn had clearly lost his touch.

Lucy was gaping. “What are you wearing?” she asked.

“…clothes?”

Wyatt made a strangled noise.

Flynn set down his cup of coffee. “I can go… change if you guys want…”

Lucy looked over at Wyatt. “Everyone else is still asleep, right?”

“I think so?”

“Great.” She grabbed Wyatt and yanked him up off the couch, dragging him across the room. “Hey Flynn, how about you—”

The alarm went off.

Lucy closed her eyes and Flynn could literally see her counting to ten to stay calm. “I. Hate. Rittenhouse.”

Flynn looked down at himself again as they all boarded the Lifeboat.

Were his pants abnormally tight or something?

So, for the record—he hadn’t _meant_ to start anything.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to go along with it once it was started.

 

* * *

 

“Is he trying to give us a heart attack?” Wyatt whimpered in Lucy’s ear.

“Let’s just deal with these assholes and get him back to the bunker,” Lucy replied through gritted teeth. “Then we can fuck his brains out all we want.”

They’d gone back to the 1950s. Of all times, they’d gone back to the decade where _everyone was wearing leather jackets_.

So Flynn hadn’t bothered changing his clothes.

Lucy wanted to jump him so badly she thought she might actually be having some kind of cardiac arrest.

He was wearing a leather jacket and leather gloves, both of which fit him perfectly. She’d thought he was attractive in Salem, and when he’d first strode into the bunker, but now that she was actually with him, now that she knew what it felt like to actually touch him, kiss him, feel him inside her…

Oh _God_.

By the time the mission was finished, Lucy wanted to shove him onto the closest surface and tell him to fuck her until she screamed. Wyatt didn’t look much better, and Lucy had seen him literally have to stop whatever he was doing and breathe carefully through his nose a few times in a very _not now boner_ kind of way, like when Flynn had flexed his shoulders in the jacket.

Lucy amended her mental statement. She wanted to order Flynn to fuck Wyatt, _then_ have him fuck her until she screamed.

Perfect.

When they stumbled out of the Lifeboat, Lucy thought she was going to vibrate right out of her skin. He was still wearing the entire outfit, gloves included, and she just wanted so very very _very_ badly…

Finally, they all got to retire to the bedroom.

Wyatt all but collapsed onto the bed, staring at Flynn like he was dying of thirst and Flynn was a tall drink of water.

Lucy sat down next to Wyatt, running her hand through his hair to calm him down. “Garcia. Why don’t you come over here?”

“I was thinking of hopping into the…”

“ _Garcia Flynn_.”

He looked over at her and Wyatt and saw their faces. Saw how Wyatt looked like he was literally going to lose his damn mind. Lucy was sure she didn’t look much better.

Flynn clearly got the picture now. “Well…” he started, taking the finger of a glove and beginning to tug it off.

“Whooaaa,” Wyatt and Lucy both blurted out, Lucy’s hand shooting out as if she would manage to physically stop him from taking the glove off despite being across the room.

Flynn paused. Look down at the leather gloves. Looked back up at them.

His face clearly said _are you two serious?_

Wyatt and Lucy nodded. Dead fucking serious.

Flynn stopped trying to take off the gloves and sauntered over to them, still fully clothed, one eyebrow raised. “So… that’s what it is,” he said, his voice slow and deep with realization.

Lucy swallowed hard. “God yes,” she said, not even recognizing her own voice.

She reached out as he approached, grabbing that damn leather jacket and yanking Flynn in. He stumbled a little but ended up helpfully right between her legs as she kissed him.

She shivered as she felt his gloved hands running over her curves. Oh, yes. Fuck yes.

Lucy hadn’t ever been into that whole fetish gear thing. The masks, the latex, the weird leather chest strap things people wore. No thanks.

But just like a guy in a well-fitting suit could get her going, so could a guy in a good leather jacket and some gloves.

Especially a guy like Flynn. He looked born to wear that sort of thing.

She kissed him hot and dirty, not even letting him far enough away to get her clothes off. Then she heard Wyatt’s breath hitched and remembered—she’d had plans.

Lucy pulled back. “Strip,” she ordered Wyatt, then went back to making out with Flynn.

She could hear Wyatt obeying her and oh, if that didn’t get everything rushing south.

Flynn pulled away, chest heaving, looking like he’d been hit by a cement truck. His lips were swollen, his eyes so dark they looked black, and his hair was now all disheveled. Lucy smirked. Much better.

She looked over at Wyatt, who was now naked, kneeling on the bed, watching them both and flushing a little.

“Why don’t you start with him?” Lucy ordered lightly.

Flynn raised his eyebrow at Wyatt. “I don’t know, maybe you’d like to wait a little longer, Wyatt?”

Wyatt glared at him. “You’re a son of a bitch,” he said, right before he practically tackled Flynn onto the bed.

Flynn let Wyatt think he had the upper hand for a moment, let Wyatt kiss him, and then pulled away, flipping around so that Wyatt now had his back pressed against Flynn’s chest. One of Flynn’s gloved hands slid up around Wyatt’s throat, forcing Wyatt to tilt his head back and keeping him pinned. Lucy saw Flynn squeeze slightly, just for two seconds.

Wyatt went wonderfully pliant, a desperate moan escaping him. Flynn’s other hand slid down between Wyatt’s legs, taking his cock in hand and stroking it slowly.

Lucy hiked up her skirt, settling herself back on the pillows to watch as Flynn teased Wyatt, Wyatt’s hands clawing desperately at Flynn’s leather-clad arms.

Fuck if that wasn’t an image. She touched herself slowly, teasing mostly, not wanting this to be over too quickly. “Do you have any idea how you _look_?” she demanded, sinking a finger into herself with a whine.

Flynn flicked his gaze over to her, grinning savagely and then turning his head to kiss Wyatt as he started stroking him faster. She could _see_ Wyatt’s throat working underneath Flynn’s hand, the way he was pushing desperate noises into Flynn’s mouth that Flynn was swallowing down. She added a second finger, stroking herself roughly, impatient for Flynn’s fingers inside of her but also enjoying the current view.

Wyatt’s fingers were tightly gripping Flynn’s arms and his hips started to jerk in time with Flynn’s strokes. Lucy bit down hard on her lower lip, trying to keep her eyes from falling closed as she kept touching herself. Flynn pulled away from Wyatt’s mouth and started slowly kissing down his neck, nipping occasionally. The sight of him, fully dressed, wearing leather, touching Wyatt, biting at him—

Lucy let out a helpless little moan as she rolled her hips. “Let him come, Flynn,” she ordered. Oh, fuck, God, she thought she might implode.

Flynn brushed his mouth over Wyatt’s jaw, up to his ear. Lucy could see his hand speed up around Wyatt’s cock, his wrist twisting. Wyatt shuddered violently. “You were desperate all day, weren’t you?” Flynn murmured in Wyatt’s ear, just loud enough that Lucy could hear him. “Fucking gagging for it.” He squeezed lightly at Wyatt’s throat again and Wyatt made a desperate noise, his entire body jerking. “Go ahead, she said that you could. Show me how much you need it.”

Lucy sank further into the pillows as Wyatt came, his body stiffening and then sinking back into Flynn, his chest heaving.

“Perfect,” Lucy told him, smiling when the corner of Wyatt’s mouth flickered upwards.

Flynn’s eyes were dark on hers. “I see you got started without me.”

“You can’t possibly have expected me to hold out when I had that kind of show in front of me,” Lucy replied as Flynn moved towards her.

He took her hand away and slid his own hand in place. She could feel the warm, smooth leather, the moment that he felt how wet she was, how open she’d worked herself, and she spread her legs, panting.

“I’m going to have to wear these more often,” Flynn noted, sliding his fingers inside of her and stroking slowly.

Lucy made a helpless sort of noise. She could feel the bed shifting as Wyatt moved to get a better angle, watching them. She clawed at Flynn’s arms, feeling the leather underneath her fingers, his face tight from desire and restraint as he watched her.

He kept touching her, drawing her right up to the edge, and she thought—oh _God_ she thought, she was going to come, she was getting finger fucked by Garcia while he was wearing leather gloves oh holy—

And then he was drawing his hand away.

Lucy glared at him, but the effect was ruined a bit by her flushed face, the way she knew that she looked hungry and desperate, her breaths coming in fast and shallow.

Flynn kissed that pouting look right off her face. “Somebody’s impatient.”

“Somebody wants to get fucked,” Lucy replied, hooking her leg around his waist.

Flynn started to try and get his clothes off but she wouldn’t let him get away from her. Lucy clawed at his shoulders, her mouth right at his ear. “No, no keep—keep it on, keep it all on please—” and then she was kissing him again before he could even think to reply.

She heard the sound of his pants being undone but he stopped trying to take off anything else and then oh _fuck_.

There was something wonderfully dirty about having sex with all of your clothes still on, even if it was sex in your bedroom, on the bed, with your husband (one of your husbands, anyway). She could feel Flynn’s hand sliding underneath her to the small of her back, pressing up, giving himself leverage as he started to fuck into her.

She held on, the smooth leather under her hands, his neck under her mouth, his gloved hands under her clothes. It was hard and fast and rough, like back in the first days when they hadn’t wanted to admit they were in love, when they’d bitten and scratched to hide the emotions underneath, and oh God it had been so long since he’d just fucked the life out of her like this and she’d been so close before and it was so good, so good, so good—

She ended up biting down on the shoulder of the leather jacket as she came, feeling Flynn grunt and then spill into her, absolutely ruining her skirt. He held her for a moment, cradled her almost, and then he slowly lowered her back onto the bed.

Lucy panted up at him, smiling dazedly. Wyatt’s face was bright pink, his bottom lip sucked into his mouth, obviously having enjoyed the show.

“So my understanding is, I should wear this more often,” Flynn said.

Lucy nodded. Oh, hell yes.


	27. By the Throat

Sometimes Wyatt really regretted this whole ‘becoming more confident in his sexuality’ thing.

Because with that confidence came telling Lucy and Flynn things like, oh, ‘I have a thing for being choked a bit sometimes during sex’.

Which then led to Lucy and Flynn taking awful, horrible advantage of it.

And they couldn’t claim that they didn’t know what they were doing because they knew. They _knew_. Exactly. What they were doing.

Exhibit A:

He was sitting at the table, eating breakfast, when Lucy stopped by. She braced her hand on the table and leaned in, apparently for a bite of Wyatt’s cereal.

But then as she pulled away she trailed two fingers down the side of his throat.

Wyatt jumped and glared at her, but Lucy just smiled sweetly at him.

Exhibit B:

When Wyatt didn’t want to be the one to do the dishes after dinner, Flynn had leaned in, kissed right behind Wyatt’s ear, and put his fingers, ever so lightly, on Wyatt’s neck, Flynn’s thumb brushing over the pulse point, swiping back and forth, like a reminder of what he could do.

Wyatt had ended up doing the dishes.

Then there was the time they were on a mission and had needed to clean up after they’d created a bit of a… well, crime scene, really. There was a dead body on the floor and everything.

Flynn sighed, stripping off his jacket and pulling his pair of black leather gloves out of his pocket. They were butter soft, Wyatt knew, because he’d felt them on his skin before, between his legs, gripping his throat…

Wyatt hadn’t meant to whimper out loud, just sort of in his head, but Flynn heard it. He sighed. “Fingerprints, Wyatt. We can’t leave fingerprints.”

Fuck the fingerprints, Flynn was in a dark gray suit with a motherfucking waistcoat and had just put on those damn leather gloves.

Wyatt was totally justified in jumping him.

Flynn kissed him back obligingly but then got his hand at Wyatt’s throat and pushed, kept pushing, until he had used his grip to shove Wyatt up against the wall.

If Wyatt had been fourteen again he definitely would’ve orgasmed just from that, but luckily he managed to keep a hold of himself as Flynn began kissing him again, his hand still in place at Wyatt’s throat, holding him still so that Flynn could slide his tongue into his mouth and slowly take him apart, one moment at a time.

Good thing too since that was when Rufus walked in, took one look at them making out, and said, “Okay, really? There’s a dead guy five feet away from you.”

It wasn’t until hours later that Wyatt even realized that as time travelers from the future… they didn’t _need_ to worry about fingerprints.

That motherfucker.

Lucy now, when they were on a mission and she needed them to straighten the fuck up and listen to her, would grab Wyatt and yank him by the collar of his shirt, or by his tie, tightening the hold the fabric had around his neck just a bit as she jerked him (ha) to attention.

Not that there weren’t a few times—okay, more than a few—that Wyatt really, really, _really_ enjoyed it.

Like when Flynn was fucking him slowly from behind, his arm a band of iron around Wyatt’s waist, and he moved his hand up to wrap it around Wyatt’s throat and haul Wyatt up until he was kneeling, his back to Flynn’s chest, Flynn’s mouth at his ear to whisper how gorgeous Wyatt looked, how he felt, how much Flynn loved that he could reduce Wyatt to a wreck like this.

Holy _shit_.

Yeah, he hadn’t lasted long after that. Flynn had to tighten his grip just once and Wyatt was _done_.

And of course every damn time, except in the middle of sex, the answer was always, “Oh, no, Wyatt, did that get you all hot and bothered?” or “Oh, dear, Wyatt, I didn’t mean it like _that_ ,” or “Hey, are you okay Wyatt? You look a little flushed.”

As if they had no clue what they were doing to him. Lucy with her little neck kisses that she’d started giving him, her delicate fingers, Flynn with his large, firm hands and his smirk.

He hated them both so much.

“It’s the pressure that you like, right?” Lucy asked at one point.

Well, yes, that, and also the feeling of being owned, claimed, that he belonged wholeheartedly to someone to such an extent that his life was in their hands. Because it meant that he was loved, that he had been chosen. That he wasn’t a fuck up who was going to be told that he wasn’t worth the trouble and told to get out. The dual feeling of adrenaline from the danger and the knowledge that he could trust Flynn (or Lucy, although she never straight out choked him, just teased) completely, implicitly, that Flynn would never truly hurt him, would cut off his own arm before he let Wyatt or Lucy be hurt—

Yeah that did a lot for him.

Not that he knew how to say all of that to Lucy or Flynn. But he thought that they could tell anyway. Something in the way they looked at him. A lot of the time, it felt like they knew him better than he knew himself, that they could see the parts of him that he was still scared to look at.

But, okay, yes, he also liked the pressure.

“Why do you ask?”

Lucy hummed. “I was just wondering what it would be like if you could feel that all day. Not too intensely, I mean,” she amended quickly. “That would be exhausting. But just some… light pressure. Like when Flynn puts his hand there but doesn’t squeeze at all.”

Wyatt had the feeling he was supposed to know where this was going. “I mean…” The idea was nice. “Sure, I think I’d like that? Why?”

Lucy turned her computer screen to face him.

Wyatt looked at the screen. Looked at her. Looked at the screen. Looked at her.

“Have you cleared this with Flynn?”

“I think it’s been a little too long since we’ve made him question the strength of his heart, don’t you?” Lucy replied with a smile that managed to be simultaneously sweet and devilish.

She set the laptop aside and crawled into his lap, her fingers running through his hair. “Just think about it. You’d get to feel us on you all day. Nobody else knows it but we know. We don’t even have to see it. We know, and you know, and it’ll be like we’re touching you all day. Reminding you that you’re ours, just like we’re yours, and we like it that way.”

Wyatt glanced over at the laptop. Every time he swallowed, or breathed too hard, he’d be able to feel that light pressure. It would be just like when Lucy and Flynn touched him.

“…not every day.”

“What do you take me for, of course not every day. But it’ll help you be less annoyed with those suits with high collars, right?” Lucy added, grinning at him.

Wyatt sighed. “Someday, I’m going to find a way to say no to you.”

Lucy kissed him. “Good luck with that.”

Of course, Wyatt had forgotten one fundamental thing about living in this stupid bunker:

Denise had to clear any and all packages coming in.

“Okay,” she said, striding into the bunker. “Who smuggled a dog in.”

Everyone stared at her.

“Who smuggled a what now?” Rufus asked.

“A dog. Somebody’s got a dog, and they’ve hidden it in here, and I’d like to just get this over with, please,” Denise said.

Everybody stared at everybody else in a very accusing _you got a dog and didn’t tell me_ manner.

Then it clicked for Wyatt.

He knew the moment it clicked for Lucy because she made a distressed squeaking noise.

And _that_ made it click for Flynn.

Flynn grinned broadly, leaning back against the kitchen sink. “How do you know there’s a dog, Denise?”

Lucy was sending Flynn tiny little hand signals and raising her eyebrows telling him _abort abort abort_ but Flynn was clearly enjoying this way too much.

Wyatt wondered if he should just go stick his head in the oven now.

“Because of a package—” Denise paused, narrowing her eyes at Flynn.

“And tell me,” Flynn went on. “What store did this package come from?”

Denise closed her eyes and very clearly mentally counted to twenty. Then she opened them again. “Pick up your damn package, Flynn.”

“I never said it was mine.”

“So is there a dog or isn’t there?” Rufus asked.

Jiya sighed and put her hand over his, not even looking up from where she was doing Sudoku in the paper. “Eat your oatmeal, babe.”

“Well if it’s not yours, whose is it?” Denise demanded.

Lucy, blushing like a fire hydrant, stood up, looking at Denise’s feet. “Ah, that would, um, be mine. Denise. Thank you.”

As Lucy followed Denise to get the package, Flynn leaned in to Wyatt. “And you two were going to surprise me, weren’t you.”

“At this point, asshole, you’ll be lucky if I wear it at all.”

“Oh, you will,” Flynn replied with a knowing smirk.

Wyatt hated that he was right.

Because sometimes, he really hated that he’d gotten up the courage to tell Lucy and Flynn what he liked.

But honestly… he didn’t hate it at all.


	28. Late Night Activities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all... Flynn with glasses.  
> Second of all... this dress: https://www.instagram.com/p/BlybcwYg5Gi/?hl=en&taken-by=abigailspencer

Flynn liked to think that he aged well (and the way Wyatt’s jaw dropped when Flynn took off his shirt confirmed it), but he had to make concessions now and again. Not a whole lot, thank God. Despite the many injuries he’d gotten from fighting over the years, he didn’t have a huge amount of joint pain, no limp, nothing like that.

But it did mean that when he was up working late, reading, sometimes he had to bust out his reading glasses.

He couldn’t remember telling anyone about them, but he also couldn’t remember _not_ telling anyone about them.

When he’d had to put them on to help out Tesla ( _Tesla. Nikola Tesla. Holy shit holy shit holy shit_ ) on their mission earlier, assisting the guy in tinkering around with his machine so they could ready it for transport and keep it out of Rittenhouse’s grubby paws, he hadn’t thought anything much would be made of it.

Judging by Lucy and Wyatt’s eyes bugging out of their heads, they begged to differ.

“Since when have you worn glasses?” Wyatt had demanded, sounding strangled.

“Um… the last couple of years?” Flynn had replied. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You’d have thought he’d stripped naked by the way Wyatt was staring.

But now they were back in the bunker, Tesla had been assisted— _holy shit holy shit he got to meet Nikola Tesla holy shit_ —and everyone was asleep after being thoroughly fucked.

Well. Lucy and Wyatt had been thoroughly fucked. Flynn didn’t know about Rufus and Jiya and didn’t care to know.

And now he could tackle these papers.

Paperwork. Really, Denise? He was supposed to be in Iran or something wasn’t he? According to the government? Couldn’t he forego paperwork?

That was when he heard it: the distinct sound of high heels clicking on the concrete floor behind him.

His first thought, stupidly, was that Emma had gotten into the bunker and had felt like dressing up for shooting them all while they slept.

His second thought was, did Denise have to stop by after a date with Michelle?

His third thought was _oh holy fuck_ because by then he’d turned around and seen who it was.

Lucy smiled wickedly, turning around slowly in a circle. “Like it?”

Like it. She was wearing a skintight black dress, the back cut low, the hem of the dress stopping barely halfway down her thighs, the front only just covering her breasts and held up by two rather flimsy looking straps.

Y’know, this hadn’t been how Flynn had expected to die, but he’d take it.

She was also wearing some classy black heels, and she’d even done her hair and makeup.

“All dressed up and no place to go?” he asked.

Lucy sauntered over to him and unceremoniously plopped herself sideways into his lap, taking the papers in his hand and tossing them onto the desk. “Maybe the place I’m going is right here.”

Flynn wrapped one arm around her waist, his other hand resting on the silky skin of her exposed thigh. “You got dressed up just for this.”

“Women get dressed up for all kinds of ridiculous reasons, can’t I do it so my boyfriend can fuck me?”

Flynn’s growl was involuntary, and Lucy laughed, leaning in to brush her mouth against his. “I take it you like that idea.”

Well, the only reasonable answer to that was to kiss her.

Lucy moaned into his mouth, her arms wrapping around him. He ran his hands over her curves, the fabric of the dress clinging to her, hiding and revealing at the same time. Fuck, he was never going to get over how beautiful she was.

He pulled back, lifting his hand up to take the glasses off, but Lucy grabbed his wrist. “Leave those on.”

Flynn stared up at her, amusement flooding him. “Oh? So you and Wyatt _did_ rather like these earlier.” He kissed up the side of her neck. “Got a student-teacher kink I didn’t know about? Have a thing for scientists?”

“Oh, shut up,” Lucy replied, laughing, sliding a hand into his hair and tugging until he was at the right angle for her to kiss him again.

Before she could do anything—and he could see by the gleam in her eyes that she had an idea or two—Flynn lifted her up, prompting a startled squeak from Lucy. He kept one arm around her waist, and used his free hand to shove the papers on the desk out of the way before setting her down on it.

“Okay,” Lucy said, her voice a little shaky. “That was unbelievably hot.”

Flynn grinned at her, putting his hands on her knees and spreading them. The dress might be tight but it was so wonderfully short, it was easy to do. Lucy wrapped her legs around him, digging her heels into his back and using it to haul him to her, kissing his jaw. “Wipe that grin off your face. I was supposed to be seducing you.”

“Mmm…” Flynn got a hand into her hair and tugged sharply, scraping his teeth over Lucy’s earlobe as she gasped and arched against him. “Were you?”

Lucy slid her hand into his pants, palming his cock and kissing him, sucking on his bottom lip for a moment before pulling away, letting Flynn’s head fall forward onto her shoulder as she started stroking him properly. “Hmm, I think I was.”

Flynn turned his head, sucking a mouthful of her neck into his mouth, determined to leave a mark, and slid his hands up her thighs, pushing the fabric of the dress up, loving the way that Lucy’s breath hitched and her rhythm faltered.

She drew her hand out, focusing on undoing his pants instead. Flynn grabbed her wrists and pushed until Lucy was lying flat on the desk, her hands pinned down on either side of her head. She undid her legs from around his waist and hitched one over his shoulder instead. They probably made a hell of a picture: Flynn still fully clothed except for his pants being undone, Lucy in her rucked-up dress, her dark hair splayed out around her, her makeup flawless.

Lucy’s eyes were dark and wide, her chest heaving as she gazed up at him, their noses almost touching. Flynn let his eyes trail all over her, wondering what exactly, out of the many lovely and varied options, he wanted to do to her next.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked him, coy.

“Maybe I’m just considering the fact that we’re on a desk, and you’re asking me to keep my glasses on. You sure you don’t have some roleplay fantasy you want to tell me?”

“Garcia?”

“Yes?”

“Take your damn clothes off.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Lucy obligingly pushed her dress up farther as he stripped, before pulling him back over her and running her hands over his chest and shoulders. He slid his hand down in between her legs, feeling where she was already warm and wet, determined to make her even wetter.

She all but bit her way into his mouth as he touched her, starting over the fabric, ignoring the way that she whined and growled against his lips when he wouldn’t slide his fingers inside of her, wouldn’t yank her underwear down and remove that final layer.

“Garcia, Flynn, please, Garcia come _on_ ,” she moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders.

Looked like he’d won the upper hand. Flynn couldn’t keep himself from grinning a little as he finally let Lucy hitch up her hips so he could slide her underwear off, tossing it to the side with his clothes.

He took her leg and hoisted it back over his shoulder, kissing the inside of her knee as he slid his fingers inside of her. Lucy threw her head back, gasping, her hips rolling in time with his fingers. Fuck, she was gorgeous. The dress hid nothing, from her chest as she breathed to the way her stomach muscles tightened. He bent over, pulling his hand away in time so that he could mouth at her breasts through the fabric, taking the peak of a hardened nipple between his teeth for a bare second before fluttering his tongue over it, sucking lightly.

Lucy grabbing him and literally hauled him up, with surprising strength, getting her heels up onto the desk so that she could hold him in the cradle of her thighs. She took his face into her hands, her gaze hungry and demanding. “Garcia.” Her voice was fire, pouring into his ears. “Fuck. Me.”

And he’d thought he’d had the upper hand.

He kissed her, devoured her, her limbs twining around him as he slid into her. She finally let him take the glasses off and dug her nails and heels into him, everything about her body screaming for him to move, to thrust hard, to take her.

He’d once been scared of hurting her, and sometimes he still was, but he’d long since learned that Lucy Preston was not going to break so easily as he and everyone else in the world had thought she would. Whatever he gave, she could take—and she wanted to take it, happily demanded it.

So he did.

He really, really hoped that everyone was sound asleep because Lucy was not bothering to be quiet in the least, her cries echoing in his ears as she shuddered in his arms. He pulled up, pinning her wrists down again, giving himself a better angle to thrust into her. Lucy let out a noise that sounded like it had been punched out of her, her eyes going wide.

“Do _not_ stop,” she ordered, her hips twisting frantically to meet his thrusts. “Oh my fucking God, don’t you dare stop—”

He could feel that roaring in his ears, the tightening spring inside of him, but kept going, grit his teeth, because she’d said not to stop and he wasn’t going to let this end until she’d gotten what she wanted, but she was so beautiful like this, her hair wild and her lipstick smudged, her breasts straining against the fabric of the dress, tight and hot and slick around him—

Lucy gave a last, choked-off cry, her body going stiff before she shuddered and slumped back down. Flynn gathered her up into his arms, holding her close, letting her kiss him and run her hands all over him as he fucked into her frantically, biting down on her shoulder and grunting as the rush hit him and he emptied himself into her.

They slumped together for a moment as he tried to get his breathing back, then he stepped back, sinking into the chair, Lucy still in his lap.

She ran a hand through her hair, getting it out of her face, and then kissed him slowly, a silent, satisfied _thank you_.

“So, really,” he asked her when she pulled back. “Is it a librarian thing, or…?”

Lucy whacked him with her shoe.


	29. Alone Time

Lucy sat cross-legged on the bed and happily tore open the package. Normally she’d have to wait but Wyatt and Flynn were sparring and would be at it for a while.

She had no problem showing off a little for them. She enjoyed it, even, the way Wyatt would trail his fingertips over her skin as she touched herself, the way he’d kiss her until she was drunk on it, and the way Flynn would take the device from her and use it on her instead, sliding it over her clit or in and out of her depending on which toy she was using, the way he’d spread her legs farther apart and watch her with dark eyes.

But this was a brand-new toy and she wanted to do the first run on her own.

Mmm, it was as pretty as in the pictures. She set it aside, threw away the package and the wrapping—silently apologizing to Denise for having to clear the package before giving it to Lucy—and then crossed back over to the bed.

She stripped slowly, letting her fingers trail over her skin, making her shiver. She undid her hair, letting it cascade down her shoulders and running her fingers through it, tugging slightly, just enough to hike up the heat in her stomach. She knelt on the bed and sucked on some of her fingers, getting a proper handful of her hair and tugging harder. If she closed her eyes she could almost feel like she had Wyatt or Flynn in her mouth, that it was one of them tugging the way they would when she sucked them all the way down, knowing she liked it.

Lucy let go of her hair, tweaking one of her nipples, shuddering pleasantly. A series of vague images flickered through her mind, some memories of times with her boys, others half-formed fantasies of things they hadn’t yet done. The time Flynn had fucked her in the shower until she’d been clawing at the tiles, the way she wanted him to tie her up but hadn’t yet found the way to ask, the time she’d ridden Wyatt and wouldn’t let him come until she’d said so, the toys and games she had yet to work him up to.

She toyed with herself, her impatience warring with the knowledge that delaying her orgasm would make it better. It was why she loved Flynn’s teasing, although she’d never have told him so out loud. The pressure between her legs built as she fluttered her fingers over her stomach, palmed her breasts, trailed them up and down her inner thighs until she finally sank down onto the pillows and slid her spit-slick fingers through her folds.

The vibrator she picked up with her other hand, flicking it on as she teased herself with just one finger, twisting it in and out of herself. Her own fingers were never as satisfying as Wyatt’s or Flynn’s, theirs so much longer and thicker, but her own were perfect if she wanted to just tease herself a little.

Lucy half-wondered if she should go get one of the dildos out of the drawer—she’d freely admit she had a thing about size (although it had taken her asking for both of them at once before Flynn and Wyatt had gotten four out of two and two) but this wasn’t about that, not tonight, this was about trying out her new toy and she could hardly focus on that when she was having too much fun with another toy, could she?

She gripped the vibrator—which had a convenient shape that allowed her hand to wrap around and slide through, so she wasn’t worried about it slipping out of her fingers—and slid it over her skin, jolting a little at the first contact with the vibrations.

Lucy would be the first to admit that no toy was really going to replace her partners. There was something about being skin-to-skin with another person, having that connection and that intimacy, that an inanimate object could never replicate. And really, nothing was going to be as good as Flynn’s or Wyatt’s mouth between her legs. But there were times like this when she was alone, or the boys were too tired, or full-on sex was just too damn exhausting and she just needed to get off quick.

And— _oh_ —this was doing a mighty fine substitute job.

Lucy spread her legs, circling the vibrator over her clit and biting back a moan. Yes. _Yes_. This toy was definitely staying. She forced herself to keep it at a lower setting, teasing herself, running her free hand lightly over her skin, occasionally playing with her breasts or gripping the bedsheets.

It was incredibly easy to imagine it was Wyatt running his hands over her while Flynn was between her legs, his tongue lapping at her, slowly swirling over her clit, and she couldn’t do it to herself (for obvious reasons) but she could imagine asking Wyatt to pin her wrists down, getting Flynn to hold open her legs or hold down her hips as they started to roll into the touch, craving more sensation.

She turned up the level and moaned, her toes curling, coherent thought—about fantasies or otherwise—starting to flee as little whines started to emerge from the back of her throat. She shifted the angle slightly and oh, oh, _oh_ —

Lucy came with a full-bodied shudder, her hips arching up off the bed, a sigh escaping her. She sank boneless back into the bed, nuzzling the pillow. Hell yes, she was keeping this one.

Now it was nap time. And hey, if the boys came back and found her naked, well, that would just be a bonus for all of them, wouldn’t it?

 

* * *

 

Wyatt held up the dildo and wondered, for the tenth time, why he was intimidated by _this_ and not by Flynn’s dick which was, all things considered, the same size.

But hey. He was on a mission, and he was Delta Force dammit, and if Lucy could happily and quickly get herself off with her toys then why couldn’t he?

Lucy and Flynn were doing one of their restraint sessions, so God knew they’d be busy for a couple of hours, and Rufus and Jiya were, quote, ‘doing couples’ therapy’ aka playing Mario Kart, so he had plenty of time and no chance of anyone walking in on him.

Theoretically, anyway. You never really knew in this bunker.

Well, start with what you do know, he told himself.

Wyatt ran a hand down his chest, sliding it underneath his pants, just palming himself. Pretended that Lucy was whispering in his ear what to do, because it was always easier to do something when someone was telling him to do it, when someone was giving him a sense of purpose and direction about it.

She’d tell him to keep it slow, just to tease a little, not to grip too hard or too rough. She’d tell him to unbutton his pants carefully, to drag them down his legs, to walk his fingers up his thigh and don’t even think about getting himself off too soon.

He stroked himself a few more times and then properly slicked his fingers up, shivered as he recalled all the times Flynn had done this.

It was odd, when he thought about it, how he was so much better with letting one of them explore with him, for him, rather than just doing it on his own. But it was time he took charge of his own sexuality, his own desires, instead of just letting himself float on whatever river of what he thought he was supposed to feel, and he wanted, he _wanted_ , so badly.

He spread his legs, trying to go slow, instead of just sliding two fingers inside the way that he wanted. Flynn was always going on about how Wyatt and Lucy had no patience and would go from zero to one hundred even if they ended up tearing something, and so he tried to avoid that, teasing until he finally slid a finger inside, curling it just so, fanning the hot curl of desire in his gut, the one he’d used to stifle and ignore but now welcomed, chased, embraced.

It felt like if he just looked over his shoulder he’d see Flynn watching him, eyes dark and hot, just waiting for the right moment to slide his palm over Wyatt’s skin and tell Wyatt to beg for it.

He could do this, he reminded himself. Lucy and Flynn had ordered him to touch himself, prep himself before, under their watchful eyes and whispered commands, hot in his ear.

And when he got himself loose enough to add a second finger and twisted it just right—ohhhhh fuck yes. He could practically hear Flynn’s triumphant purr, could almost feel Lucy’s kisses against his shoulders and neck.

It was easy to add a third finger now that he’d gotten the angle right and he ran a hand through his hair, tugging a little, sliding it down his chest, pretending it was one of them, refusing to touch his cock, wanting this to last, knowing they’d want him to make it last.

No, he reminded himself, this wasn’t just about what Flynn and Lucy would want. This was about what he wanted too—and fuck, he wanted this to last.

He pulled his fingers out, took a deep breath, forced himself to relax. And slowly, ever so slowly, started to slide the toy inside of himself.

It was a burn but a good one, the same as when he was with Flynn, and he breathed through the stretch, his eyelids fluttering and his mouth dropping open as he got used to the feeling of it inside of him. Fuck, yeah, this was what he’d been after. This feeling of fullness, of tasting it in the back of his throat.

He moved it slowly at first, twisting, shifting, experimenting. Completely in control for once, no one setting the pace or telling him what to do and he still liked that, oh boy did he ever, but it was nice to just do this himself and see how he could do it and what he liked. It felt almost like he was making up for what he hadn’t been able to do when he was a teenager, when most kids experimented with things like this, figuring out what they liked, because it had been unthinkable at the time.

But now he could move it a little harder, faster, liking that pace, remembering it from when he was with Flynn or when Lucy was telling Flynn how to fuck him, his breaths punched out of his chest.

Then he bit his lip and pressed the button at the base.

Vibrations shot through him and he jolted, moaning obscenely, and _fuck shit damn_ this was why Lucy loved her vibrators so much, oh holy fucking _God_ —

He came absurdly easy, without even touching his cock, chest heaving and sweat sliding down his temple.

He was definitely going to have to work himself up to do that for longer because that. That was worth the price of admission.

 

* * *

 

The day Wyatt or Lucy woke up before Flynn in the morning was the day he knew the world had turned upside down.

He slid out of bed quietly, shifting Lucy from being pressed against his side to Wyatt’s arms so that she wouldn’t be cold and pulling the covers up over Wyatt, running his hand softly through Wyatt’s hair. His heart thumped painfully in his chest as he watched the two of them unconsciously snuggle closer together.

Flynn walked into the main room and started up the coffee maker, then hopped into the shower. Best to do it while he could, before someone—usually Wyatt or Rufus—took all of the hot water.

While in there, he couldn’t help but drift back to thinking about the two people he’d left in bed. They were all pliant, heavy limbs and drowsiness now but last night—last night they had been pliant in a whole different way, eager, pressed up against him. Lucy in his arms, squirming, begging him to get inside of her, his fingers sliding slickly through her folds. Wyatt curled around his side, kissing down his shoulder, growling and biting down when Flynn had taken his cock in hand, letting Flynn press him down into the mattress.

Flynn braced his forearm against the tiles of the shower, feeling his cock grow hot and heavy between his legs. He could still remember when he’d been on the run after losing his family, when he’d only touch himself furtively once in a while when the longing for Lorena had gotten to be too much. It was a way to relieve tension, to relax if only infinitesimally, and it had been rough and fast and nothing to be savored.

Now he touched himself slowly, no guilt in it, licking his lips unconsciously as he remembered the expression on Lucy’s face when she slid him into her, her hands braced on his chest, and the way Wyatt got on his knees and looked up at him through his lashes as he took Flynn into his mouth.

Fuck. He toyed with himself, rolling the foreskin between his fingers, swiping his thumb over the head, trying to swallow the noises in case someone was up.

Half the time he still didn’t know what he’d done to deserve either of the people in his bed but God he was addicted and couldn’t have left even if he’d tried, even if he’d wanted to. The sweet smell of Lucy’s skin, the hot taste of Wyatt’s mouth, would haunt him for the rest of his life, haunted him even now as he stroked himself to the memory of them.

Flynn sped up his pace, breathing hard through his nose, twisting his wrist at the base and hazily planning what he was going to do later, the way he was going to slide up behind Wyatt and kiss him breathless, the way he’d spread Lucy’s legs open and nose at her folds.

He turned his face into the meat of his upper arm, biting down lightly to muffle the groan as his cock jerked and he came, spilling onto the tile, the evidence quickly washed away by the water.

Mmm. Nice bite mark. Lucy would ask about it later. He looked forward to being able to tell her what he’d been doing and the inevitable (literal) jumping onto him that would result.

But first: coffee.


	30. Pegged

Lucy rolled her hips, testing. It had been a while since she’d done this, and the last time had actually been with a woman rather than a man, but Flynn was enjoying it if the way he shuddered underneath her was any indication.

He kissed just below her ear. “Lucy, please.”

She shook her head, then caught his bottom lip between her teeth, swiping her tongue over it once before darting up and out of his reach again. “Not yet. Hands stay on the bed.”

Flynn growled but his hands stayed down by his sides, gripping the sheets.

Lucy smiled and rolled her hips again, then shifted angle slightly and thrust. Flynn’s growl turned into a kind of helpless, strangled moan, and Lucy’s smile widened. Jackpot.

Because it might have been a while since she’d done this, but it had been even longer for Flynn. She was going to have so much fun with this.

Lucy braced herself and thrust again, keeping that angle, her mouth falling open on a gasp as it hit her in just the right place as well. She smirked down at Flynn as he rolled his hips up to meet her. Not that she’d doubted he’d enjoy this, but…

“You really, really like this,” she whispered, starting to get a rhythm going. “Don’t you?”

Flynn managed to arch an eyebrow at her, looking imperious and sassy despite his current situation. “No, Lucy, I suggested pegging because I hate it.”

Lucy laughed, thrusting a little harder, loving the way Flynn relaxed into the pleasure, the way his muscles jumped under his skin, the way it made his eyes go glassy. If she’d known beforehand that this was the way to get Flynn’s hamster wheel mind to finally relax, she’d have done it ages ago.

She sat up, sliding her hands over Flynn’s chest, keeping her thrusts short and shallow, not giving Flynn what he needed—not quite yet. Flynn’s entire body was vibrating slightly, like he was losing his mind, like he wanted to roll her over and take what he wanted but wouldn’t. He never would, not without Lucy’s permission.

It was a bigger rush than anything else.

She kept up that pace and depth for a bit, until Flynn was trying to push back into her thrusts and his knuckles were white where they gripped the sheets. Lucy was actually a little worried he might tear them. “What do you want?” she asked, keeping her tone light. “You want it harder?”

Flynn audibly swallowed, his dry throat clicking. “F- _uck_.”

“That’s not an answer,” Lucy said, not stopping her movements but running her hands soothingly up and down his sides. “You need to answer me, or I could just stop. Do you want me to give it to you harder?”

“Yes,” Flynn managed to get out. “Lucy…”

“You want me to stop teasing you? This is teasing you, isn’t it? It’s very unfair of me.” Lucy smiled, twisting her hips and making Flynn swear violently in Croatian. “Can you ask nicely?”

It took Flynn a minute, which Lucy supposed was fair. “Please,” he forced out. “Lucy, please—I need—”

Lucy shifted forward, driving the strap on in deeper, making Flynn interrupt his own sentence to moan. She kissed him slowly. “I know what you need, don’t worry. You asked so nicely, just relax.”

She pulled out almost completely and then slid back in, hard, carefully avoiding the spot that would make Flynn’s body melt. She didn’t want this over too soon, she wanted to draw this out. Flynn groaned into her mouth as she set up a harder rhythm, going deep but not as fast as she could have.

Flynn’s hands twitched and she shook her head, biting his lip lightly in retaliation. “I’ll have to tie you up next time.”

Flynn shuddered. “I might—want that.”

Lucy had to close her eyes at the image of that. Oh, pretty please. “Well, for now—”

She shifted her angle and knew that she’d hit the perfect one when Flynn yelled, his legs spreading a little wider as if he was trying to draw her in farther. She made sure to keep that up, picking up speed at last. Oh, fuck, it was getting in her in the best of ways too. It was why she’d gotten a double one—it wouldn’t be enough to make her come but fuck if it wasn’t a great ride.

Lucy kissed her way down Flynn’s chest until she was sitting upright again, slowing down abruptly, keeping the strap on pressed against Flynn’s prostate but not thrusting properly anymore, just sort of rolling her hips lazily.

“Oh _fuck_ …” Flynn looked just about wrecked.

“Do you think you’ve been good enough?” Lucy cocked her head, reaching down to lightly fist his cock. Not enough pressure to push him over the edge, just enough to tease. She played with the foreskin, which she knew was just a teensy bit cruel, but the way Flynn’s eyes nearly rolled back into his head was so worth it. “Flynn, do you think I should let you come?”

“Please…”

“No, no begging, this isn’t about asking, this is about what you deserve. Do you deserve it?”

Flynn stared up at her for a moment and Lucy wondered if she’d pushed him too far, kept him on edge for too long and he was unable to really understand what she was asking. But then he nodded once, not curtly like he usually did but lazily. “I—I think so, yes.”

“Very good, I think so too.” Lucy tightened her grip on his cock and started stroking him fast, in time with her renewed thrusts. She could feel sweat starting to slide down her temple. “Go ahead then, Garcia, come for me.”

Flynn’s mouth opened but no sound came out as his head fell back. Lucy could feel it, see it, his whole body going unbearably tight and then loose, completely relaxed except for his heaving chest.

She pulled out carefully, undoing the strap on with shaking fingers. It didn’t take long for her to come with her fingers sliding along her clit. She was halfway there already, just from being filled up herself, and from watching Flynn. She might have come already had she not been so focused on him, her own pleasure building up in the back of her mind.

With only a few touches she came undone with a shudder as Flynn watched her, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded.

Lucy crawled over to lie down at his side, taking his face into her hands. He felt heavy, boneless, when she tried to move him. “Perfect,” she told him, a little laughter in her voice as Flynn just hummed and turned slightly in towards her. She kissed him softly, already feeling him sliding away from her and into sleep. It was beautiful, to see him so relaxed, so completely out of his head, so content and trusting. Lucy ran her hand through Flynn's hair a few times, even once he was already asleep, just wanting to soak in how relaxed he was, how much it made her heart swell to look at him, touch him casually and lovingly.

But they had made a bit of a mess and she'd had a bit of a damn workout herself, so eventually she got up to get a warm washcloth and clean up, humming quietly to herself. She grinned as more ideas came to her.

Oh, the fun they were going to have with this.


	31. Collar

Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy.

After weeks of waiting for the package to arrive and then weeks of waiting for Flynn to forget about its existence… the day had arrived.

Lucy opened the package while Wyatt sat down on the edge of the bed. “It’ll fit, right?”

“I measured you about ten times, yes, it’s going to fit.”

Lucy drew it out of the package: black, made of butter soft leather, just a simple strip with the locking mechanism in the back. They hadn’t wanted any of the bells and whistles, just something simple and classy that could easily hide underneath Wyatt’s button up shirts on missions.

It was going to look amazing.

She turned and walked over to Wyatt, who tilted his head back obligingly. His blue eyes were dark, the pupils wide, as Lucy stroked her thumb over his throat for a moment before fitting it around his neck, securing it in the back. The soft _click_ of the lock seemed to echo against the concrete bedroom walls.

Lucy drew her hands away, admiring the black leather against the paleness of Wyatt’s skin. “All good?” she asked. Her voice came out a little more breathless than she’d anticipated. It did look, um, rather…

Wyatt swallowed hard. “Yeah it’s. It’s good.”

Lucy drew her finger along the edge, where the leather met the skin, and felt Wyatt swallow again. “Not too tight?”

Wyatt’s voice was rough. “No. Perfect.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

Then Lucy was climbing into his lap, getting her finger underneath the collar to hook Wyatt’s face up to hers, kissing him as Wyatt yanked at her clothes, pulling down her pants and his. Fuck, why did she wear jeans? Why had she thought that would be a good idea?

“Off,” she demanded, ducking her head to run her tongue along the edge of the collar, loving how Wyatt shuddered and his breath caught.

She sank down onto him immediately, moaning at the slight burn and the stretch. “Yes…”

Wyatt got his hands on her hips as she rocked up and down. “You can feel every breath can’t you?” she asked. “You can—I can see—fuck I can see it go tight—”

Wyatt nodded, his eyes glassy as she sank onto him again and again. “I’m not—”

“No me neither just—”

She fucked him hard and fast, the both of them coming quickly, especially when she got her teeth around the collar and a mouthful of Wyatt’s skin. They were rarely this rushed and desperate and animalistic about it, but they didn’t have a lot of time and it was like a kind of fever had swept over them both.

Lucy panted as she came down from the high, her forehead resting against Wyatt’s. “At least we… took the edge off.”

“Uh-huh.” Wyatt still looked drugged. “Flynn’s gonna… kill us for this…”

Lucy grinned at him. “What a way to go, though.”

 

* * *

 

It took Flynn a while to notice, but in his defense, they were busy running around the late 18th century trying to stop several people with automatic weapons.

When Lucy and Wyatt were acting a little strange, he thought it was just because he was wearing a cravat and Lucy had a thing for that, apparently. Then he thought that it was because of the mission.

But then they stopped to interrogate some people about where the tall cranky redhead with the gun might have gone, Flynn noticed that Wyatt was behaving… more than a little oddly.

Wyatt was standing with Lucy, who was talking with their witness, while Flynn and Rufus were a little ways away, scanning the area. Flynn had his gun in his hand but discreetly, hidden behind a barrel.

It couldn’t just be his imagination that Wyatt looked a little pink. Or that his eyes kept going wide now and again, especially when they had to run and Wyatt was breathing hard. Or that sometimes Wyatt would reach out and grip something, looking like he was struggling to get himself under control…

Wyatt turned his head and tugged a little at his shirt collar, probably because of the heat, and that was when Flynn saw it.

The leather, peeking out, wrapping around Wyatt’s throat.

Flynn literally dropped his gun.

Oh. Oh, those sneaky little minxes.

“Um, Flynn?” Rufus stared at him. “You okay there?”

“What? Yes, fine.” Flynn wondered a) if anyone would notice if he, ah, adjusted himself and b) if he could get away with yanking Wyatt down the nearest alley and fucking him senseless.

Wyatt’s gaze flicked over to them as Lucy continued to chatter away, completely oblivious or at least acting like it. Wyatt’s eyes caught his and Flynn saw the moment Wyatt knew that he knew, because Wyatt’s cheeks went bright pink.

It was right under there, wrapped snugly around Wyatt’s throat, restricting his breathing just enough…

Flynn flexed his hand. He was usually the one who did that to Wyatt, who got a hand around his throat and squeezed just enough… but Wyatt wouldn’t need that anymore, not now that he had…

Wait.

He wasn’t seriously getting jealous of a—a damn collar, was he?

Flynn thought about how it felt when Wyatt’s breath caught underneath his palm, the way Wyatt’s pulse pounded against his thumb, the rush as Wyatt writhed helplessly, wanting it so badly…

Um. All right. So. Maybe, just maybe. He was a little jealous.

Only a little bit though.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt could feel Flynn’s eyes on him like a fucking brand.

The moment Flynn had realized that Wyatt was wearing the collar he hadn’t taken his eyes off him. Every time Wyatt ran or fought and he started breathing harder, the leather tightening its hold, he could feel heat shooting through him, making him want to go to Flynn or Lucy and fucking beg. And he knew that Flynn knew that was how he was feeling. The way Flynn was staring at him, hot and heavy, how could he not?

None of them said anything about it, but Flynn might as well have shoved Wyatt against a wall and fucked him through his clothes by the looks he was giving him. There was no room for interpretation in the way Flynn’s gaze dragged over Wyatt’s body, the way he all but glowered when Wyatt strayed too far away from Flynn or Lucy’s reach, the way Flynn’s gaze would dart down to Wyatt’s throat when he saw Wyatt swallow.

He couldn’t wait for this mission to be over. The collar was comfortable, the leather soft and not cutting, but it was just tight enough that he never forgot it was there. It was like having Flynn’s hand on his neck when Flynn was just letting it stay there, applying no pressure but just leaving it there as a reminder.

Wyatt wanted—needed—more.

Lucy didn’t help. She seemed determined to tease Flynn but in the process she was teasing Wyatt as well. She would find excuses to brush her fingers over his neck, to fiddle with his shirt collar. At one point while Wyatt was sitting and Lucy was standing she even walked up behind him and pressed a kiss to the collar at the back of his neck.

He’d literally had to sit there an extra two minutes until he’d calmed himself down enough to stand up.

Flynn had practically growled out loud at that one, the rumble just loud enough for Wyatt to hear it because he was listening for it. Oh, God, how he’d wanted to climb into Flynn’s lap or grab Lucy’s wrist and yank her against him.

But the day was finally drawing to a close. Their mission was just about over and they were headed back for the Lifeboat.

Rufus was in front with Lucy, the two of them laughing over some historical person or other. Flynn took the opportunity to grab Wyatt by the wrist and yank them together.

“I hope you don’t have any plans after this.”

Wyatt glanced to make sure Rufus couldn’t see, then drew his shirt down, exposing the collar. He ran his thumb along the edge of it, watching as Flynn’s pupils blew wide, making his eyes almost completely black.

“I don’t know, Flynn, what kind of plans do you think I might have?”

Flynn yanked him in by the hips so quickly that Wyatt almost got whiplash, their bodies crashing together. He couldn’t hold in his whimper at being pressed up against Flynn after a whole day of wanting it.

Flynn’s mouth was so close to his, almost but not quite kissing him. “You play dangerous games, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Wyatt took a risk, smashing their mouths together and licking his way in, kissing Flynn hard and dirty before pulling away and walking rapidly backwards towards Lucy and Rufus. “Might wanna walk faster than that, Flynn.”

“You’re a real brat, Wyatt Logan!”

Wyatt grinned at him. He was so going to pay for that later and he couldn’t wait.

 

* * *

 

Flynn thought he might jump out of his skin.

He also thought he might have to revise his whole idea of only being a little jealous.

He was really, really jealous.

Driving Wyatt crazy like that… that was what he did, and he loved doing it. He’d been nervous as hell about it at first, worried that he would hurt Wyatt, but fuck, he liked that he was the one who made Wyatt completely fall apart like that.

Now he had to watch Wyatt basically get the same experience but from a goddamn piece of leather.

Flynn was perfectly aware that he was ridiculous, thanks. If anyone had asked him if he was the jealous type, Flynn would have said no. He trusted his partners and they were adults who could make their own decisions. He knew they wouldn’t cheat on him, and that if someone did try to get with them, both Wyatt and Lucy were equally capable of shutting down any suitors.

Apparently, however, this levelheadedness did not extend to inanimate objects.

It drove him crazy to see how Wyatt was struggling not to beg all day. How badly Wyatt needed more, needed release, and was slowly being pulled apart by the collar. It was hot as fuck but Flynn wanted to be the one doing that, dammit. He wanted it to be his hand around Wyatt’s throat.

Lucy could obviously tell. Half of her teasing all day had been for Wyatt and half had been for Flynn. As they unbuckled and got out of the Lifeboat she leaned in and whispered, “You’re never living this down, by the way.”

“I’m aware.” Flynn watched as Wyatt exited the Lifeboat, reported to Denise, and then claimed a headache and went straight towards the bedroom.

Lucy, Flynn, and Rufus filled her in on the rest and then Flynn couldn’t walk fast enough. Lucy had to jog to keep up with him.

The moment they got into the bedroom (Lucy helpfully closing the door behind them), Flynn growled at Wyatt, “Come here.”

Wyatt walked over. He’d taken off most of his clothes, leaving just the undershirt and pants, his feet bare, but that damn collar was still nestled against his throat.

He walked over immediately, his eyes wide and desperate, his fingers shaking. Oh, he clearly wanted it so badly.

Flynn walked right up to him. “Take it off.”

Wyatt’s eyes flickered with confusion but he did as he was told. Lucy graciously—but with a knowing smile—took the collar and moved out of the way just in time for Flynn to grab Wyatt and pin him against the wall, pressing up against him. Wyatt made a soft, desperate noise as Flynn drew his nose up Wyatt’s neck, his tongue flicking out to lap at the skin, teasing.

“Please…” Wyatt was already begging, lovely.

“Mmm, you sure you need me?” Flynn asked. “That little accessory of yours seemed to be taking care of you pretty well.”

“Garcia Flynn is jealous…” Lucy said in a singsong voice.

Flynn glared at her and Lucy just laughed.

“Which do you like better?” Flynn asked, dragging the tips of his fingers along Wyatt’s throat.

“Y-you,” Wyatt stuttered out, already strung out after being essentially teased all day. He moaned as Flynn kissed up his neck. “You, Flynn, fuck, please—”

“You sure?” Flynn asked, keeping his tone light, almost musing.

“Oh God, yes, fuck, please—been thinking about this all day and I just—it’s like a placeholder it just, it reminds me but it’s not the same and I want, please, I want you to do it and I want you to fuck me Garcia—”

Flynn kissed him, harsh and deep, his hand fitting around Wyatt’s throat and squeezing properly. Wyatt jolted and shuddered, clawing at Flynn’s arms. Just as he should be, desperate and needy and coming to Flynn, getting what he needed from _Flynn_.

When Flynn pulled back, Lucy was laughing wickedly. “Oh, oh you are jealous, you are so jealous…”

“On the bed,” Flynn growled, as he let Lucy grab him and pepper contrite kisses on his face. “And strip.”

He let Lucy help him out of his own clothes, since he still had all of his on. Wyatt was already breathing harshly as Flynn joined him on the bed, Lucy eagerly watching as she stripped.

“Whoa, there.” Flynn kissed Wyatt slowly, smoothing his hands over Wyatt’s chest and sides. “Breathe.” Wyatt was so worked up, his breath stuttering in his chest, his legs shaking.

“Please,” Wyatt just begged.

“Okay, I’m going to give you what you need, always.” That was the promise they all had with each other, to give one another what they all needed. To take care of each other.

He pressed Wyatt down into the mattress. Oftentimes when they did this, he was taking Wyatt from behind and would get his hand around Wyatt’s throat from there, hauling him up, but he could tell that Wyatt needed grounding right now, needed Flynn’s weight on him, pinning him.

Wyatt spread his legs eagerly but Flynn knew there was no way Wyatt would last long enough for Flynn to get inside him. Instead Flynn focused on grinding them together, lining their cocks up, as he got his hand around Wyatt’s throat.

He squeezed rhythmically, in time with his thrusts, well versed by now in Wyatt’s tells. He could give that to Wyatt—that adjustment, that tailoring of things to Wyatt’s responses and needs—and no collar could manage that.

Wyatt was a complete mess, shaking and grasping at Flynn, on edge in just a few minutes, his cock jerking and precome leaking out every time Flynn squeezed. Fuck, he was unspeakably pretty like this, putting everything of himself into Flynn’s hands, literally, and asking so very nicely with his body if not with his words, and Flynn couldn’t ever resist him.

He kissed Wyatt, squeezing one last time, then reached down and swiped his thumb over the head of Wyatt’s cock.

Wyatt jerked and dug his nails into Flynn’s shoulders, nearly biting down on Flynn’s tongue as he spilled all over them both, before he sagged and went limp.

Flynn chuckled as he pulled back, kissing Wyatt softly one last time. ‘Boneless’ was really the only way to describe Wyatt now as he gasped, eyes wide and unseeing.

“Oh my fuck.” Lucy grabbed Flynn and rolled him over, sliding onto him without so much as a by your leave. Flynn grunted in surprise, his hips jerking, and Lucy moaned encouragingly. “That was so goddamn hot—Flynn—”

It didn’t take either of them long to finish, to say the least. He thrust up into her just a few times and then Lucy was crying out and Flynn couldn’t have held on any longer if you’d paid him.

Lucy let only a few minutes of silence pass before she was giggling.

“You’re jealous of a _collar_ ,” she howled. “Oh my God. This is amazing.”

Wyatt slurred something unintelligible.

“Do you need me to start listing your kinks?” Flynn shot back at her. “You don’t have a leg to stand on, darling.”

Lucy kept laughing. “That is happening again. If only to see how goddamn grumpy it makes you. Oh my God.”

Flynn just rolled his eyes and rolled over, kissing Wyatt’s temple as Lucy had her fun. “When you’re finished laughing feel free to join us napping.”

“Well with an offer like that.” Lucy promptly crawled in between them, wiggling in despite there being barely any room for her. Wyatt hummed and flopped his arm over Lucy’s waist.

Silence reigned for a few minutes. Then…

“Okay but we are absolutely doing that again.”

“Lucy, light of my life, just go the fuck to sleep.”


	32. Passing Time

Making out on the couch while one’s colleague was doing all the heavy work fixing the Lifeboat was probably not the most thoughtful thing Lucy and Wyatt could have been doing, but it wasn’t like there was anything else to do in this small cabin in the middle of nowhere in the 1920s.

Lucy was wearing a soft pink dress that was currently getting inched up higher and higher by Wyatt’s hand on her thigh, his body cradled between her legs as she wrapped one around his waist, her hands framing his face as Wyatt got an arm around her back to haul her closer to him.

“Kind of reminds me of Bonnie and Clyde,” Lucy admitted, tilting her head back so Wyatt could kiss down it slowly. “Remote cabin, hiding from the law…”

“I don’t see a pile of stolen cash anywhere, do you?” Wyatt replied.

Lucy swatted him. “Oh, c’mon, sweetheart. We’re on the run… holing up here… the police’ll never find us out here, will they?”

Wyatt rolled his eyes but played along. “This far out? They’ll have given up by now.” He let her start unbuttoning his shirt. “Nothing to do but kill some time.”

“Hmmm, not unless that other bandit finds us,” Lucy added.

“Other bandit?” Wyatt looked confused.

Lucy jerked her head towards the front door right as Flynn entered, oblivious.

Well, oblivious for the next thirty seconds, anyway.

Wyatt grinned at her. “Sure would be a shame, wouldn’t it, baby doll?”

“Have him stride right in,” Lucy said, gasping as Wyatt rolled his hips. “Interrupt us right in the middle of having fun.”

Flynn folded his arms and raised an eyebrow at them. “And just what are you two up to this time?”

Wyatt immediately buried his face in Lucy’s neck, blushing furiously.

Lucy faked a gasp. “Why, if it isn’t Garcia Flynn, highway bandit.”

“That’s really the best you can come up with?” Wyatt asked.

Flynn struggled to hide his amused smirk. “Let me guess. I’m your… rival?”

“How ever did you know?” Lucy replied, as Wyatt continued to hide. “Now, Flynn, you can’t say that you haven’t enjoyed our little… game of one-upmanship, can you? I’m sure we can work out some kind of bargain.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Wyatt mumbled, his voice muffled from his face being pressed against Lucy’s skin.

“What do you think?” Lucy asked, her eyes dark and heavy on Flynn.

This wasn’t the first time they’d role played, and really she was just feeling sort of silly and wanted to be playful, and what better way to do that then have a little fun with all the false identities they’d had to come up with across time?

Flynn gave a nonchalant shrug. “You two have given me a lot of trouble over the past few months. Robbing banks that should’ve been mine.”

Lucy could feel Wyatt shaking with laughter on top of her.

“Is that a no then?” she asked, teasing.

Flynn took off the jacket he was wearing. “Depends on what you’re offering.”

Lucy soothingly pet through Wyatt’s hair. She shrugged, trying to match Flynn’s casual and debonair manner. “How about… us?”

“I’m going to need a little more specificity than that.”

Wyatt pulled back and carefully got up, avoiding crushing Lucy in the process, and walked over to Flynn, pulling him in and kissing him. Lucy could see Flynn smile into the kiss as he responded, his hands settling at Wyatt’s hips.

“That specific enough for you?” Wyatt whispered against Flynn’s mouth.

“Quick question,” Flynn replied. “Is she the only one allowed to call you ‘sweetheart’?”

Wyatt laughed, ducking his head and blushing as Lucy held out her hand, wiggling her fingers. “C’mere you two.”

Flynn got to her first and she kissed him, sliding her hands down his chest, before she pushed him back up to his feet and undid his pants. “Lucy—”

“Nuh-uh. We have to convince you to partner with us, remember?” She winked. “Gotta show you all the perks.”

Flynn groaned as Lucy took him in her mouth, licking all over and then sucking him down. She couldn’t see but could hear Wyatt and Flynn kiss, and then Wyatt mutter, “if you’re not quiet, Rufus is gonna know,” to which Flynn replied, “because _I’m_ the one who’s always too loud.”

Lucy managed to glance up through her lashes and saw Flynn working his hands underneath Wyatt’s shirt as they kissed, thoroughly enjoying sliding his hands all over.

Her eyes closed again as she focused on her task. She loved to tease but Rufus could come in any minute so she worked him, her head bobbing up and down, swirling her tongue over the head and using her hand to stroke the parts she couldn’t get down, toying with the foreskin.

She heard Wyatt give a muffled yelp just as she felt Flynn jerk and stiffen, spilling down her throat, and she had a strong suspicion that Flynn had accidentally bit Wyatt’s lip as he’d come. Once she could she pulled back to laugh, wiping at her mouth, coughing a little as she giggled.

“You think you’re so funny,” Flynn growled, and then he was getting onto his knees and pushing her skirt up and spreading her legs.

Lucy moaned, especially when Wyatt got his hands and mouth down the half-unbuttoned blouse of her dress and could pinch and suck at her breasts.

Flynn licked right into her, seeking out her clit and swirling his tongue around it, twisting in and out of her and sucking, giving that hint of teeth now and again that sent Lucy’s spine to melting. She moaned, but was cut off when Wyatt kissed her.

“We’re going to get caught,” he hissed.

“Then kiss me,” she ordered.

Wyatt kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her as Flynn licked at her relentlessly. She felt like she was being wound tighter, and tighter, until her hips were twisting helplessly and she whined into Wyatt’s throat, that tight coil in her exploding and loosening everything in her as she sank boneless into the couch.

Flynn pulled back, pecking her on the lips and smirking. “Would you call this an equal partnership?”

“Smartass,” Wyatt said, and then he yelped again as Lucy tugged at him so that he landed on her, his back to her chest, which allowed Flynn to get his hand down Wyatt’s pants. Kissing got messy as Lucy kissed Wyatt, and then Flynn, and then Flynn was kissing Wyatt and she was kissing Flynn again and then she sort of lost track and everything blurred.

At one point she definitely had to clap her hand over Wyatt’s mouth as the usual desperate noises emerged from the back of his throat, kissing his temple and laughing because really, who was the loudest one?

Even if she hadn’t had a front row seat, she would’ve known when Wyatt came because of how he collapsed against her, his eyelids fluttering.

Flynn wiped his hand carelessly on Wyatt’s pants, earning a grumble from Wyatt that was soothed away by another kiss. “We made a mess.”

“As if Rufus didn’t know exactly what we were doing anyway, no matter how quiet we were,” Flynn replied. “Now scoot over.”

“Oh, I see how it is now,” Lucy said, shifting so that she could sprawl over both the boys like a spoiled queen. “You think you can call all the shots, hmm?”

Flynn lifted her hand up to kiss the back of it. “I think in any lifetime we’d know that you’re the one in charge.”

“Damn right,” Lucy replied, squirming a little as Wyatt ran his fingers lightly up and down her leg. She did feel rather tired…

“Really?” Rufus demanded twenty minutes later. “You three’ve been _napping_? I could’ve taken off and none of you would’ve noticed!”


	33. Cross Contamination

When Lucy had heard Flynn say he was going to make a cottage loaf, whatever that was, for some reason she’d thought of cottage cheese.

What she had not thought was that Flynn would be taking two flour-covered fingers and twisting them in and out of the middle of the loaf of kneaded bread.

The thing was, Flynn had… well he had arms. And hands. And fingers. Just like everyone else.

But they were _arms_. And _hands_. And _fingers_.

She could see his forearms, also dusted with flour here and there, the sleeves of his shirt folded up, his large hands kneading the dough over and over again until he was satisfied, and then his long fingers _literally_ twisting in and out just like when he…

Thank goodness she was wearing a dress for once.

Lucy marched over and hopped up onto the counter. “Hey, handsome.”

Then she kissed him.

“Lu—” Flynn tried to say something else, probably about not squishing the bread, but it was hard to talk when he had Lucy’s tongue in his mouth.

She shoved the bread to the side, not even caring if it landed in the sink, and wrapped her legs around him to pull him into her. She wanted those clever fingers inside of her, fingers that handled guns and knives and bread but most of all her, handled her so well…

They pulled back, Flynn panting, caught by surprise. “What the hell?”

“Please.” Lucy scattered kisses over his face, taking his wrist—so much larger than hers—in her hand and pulling his hand between her legs. “I want—”

Understanding lit up Flynn’s face and he pushed her legs apart. “Oh… it’s like that is it?”

Lucy whimpered as he rubbed at her through her underwear. Flynn leaned in, stepping to the side a little to get a better angle with his hand and kiss down her neck. “It’s a technique to help the bread bake properly and keep the top from falling off,” Flynn mused, dragging her underwear down her legs just enough to then drag his fingertips through her slick folds. “Needs… fingerwork before it’s ready. Much like someone else I know.”

Lucy wanted to give him a smart remark but she was far too desperate. “Inside me,” she hissed, turning her head to kiss him.

Flynn obliged her, slipping his finger into her.

“More.”

“Patience.” Flynn added a second finger, though, sliding them in and out—thick and long and dexterous—oh she wanted all of them, she wanted…

Flynn crooked his fingers and Lucy jerked her hips, moaning into his mouth. She wanted all of it.

“Garcia… more…”

Flynn added a third finger, working her quickly, his thumb rubbing her clit. Lucy wanted him to add a fourth finger, getting that greedy feeling that overtook her and made her want to be pushed to her limit and then possibly beyond, to be stretched—oh fuck yes, yes, oh fuck please—

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Flynn swore quietly, relentless in how he touched her, not teasing but touching her in exactly the way he knew would get her to shatter apart. “Jesus, Lucy—”

She turned her head and Flynn caught her in a kiss just as she started to come, screaming into his mouth, the sound only partly muffled. If anyone so much as stood in the hallway they’d hear and know exactly what was going on around the corner.

Lucy slumped into Flynn’s arms.

Flynn laughed breathlessly. “You were greedy today. I thought I’d have to get my whole hand up in there.”

Lucy looked up at him and Flynn went still. “No. No, no, no, no…”

Lucy batted her eyes at him. “It’s perfectly safe. There’s a whole chapter on it in…”

Flynn groaned. “Maybe we can talk about this after I’ve cleaned the kitchen?”

Lucy kissed him. “I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” Flynn grumbled.

When Mason walked into the kitchen an hour later and asked, “I thought you were making bread, what happened?” Flynn just said, “Cross contamination.”


	34. Shower Variations

Flynn rolled his shoulders as he ducked under the spray. Fuck. He’d gotten the shit beat out of him earlier, and it felt like he was never going to get his muscles to relax again.

But he’d won the fight, so, live to fight another day and all that.

“Hey.”

Flynn half turned to see Wyatt stepping in with him. “Hey, _Liebling_.”

Wyatt kissed him slowly, running his hands gingerly up Flynn’s arms, careful not to put pressure on his bruises.

“How’re you feeling?” Wyatt asked, in between slow, sucking kisses.

“Like I got backed over by a truck,” Flynn replied. “Repeatedly.”

Wyatt hummed, then dropped down to his knees. “I’ll just blame my eventual knee arthritis on you, sound good?” he asked, taking Flynn’s cock in his hand and licking a slow stripe up it.

Flynn tangled his hand in Wyatt’s hair. “Well, don’t let me stop you,” he chuckled.

Wyatt took his time, not trying to tease so much as trying to be careful, his mouth soft and warm, working his tongue underneath the foreskin and rolling Flynn’s balls in his other hand, until Flynn’s breath started to grow harsh, punching in and out of him. He tried to regulate his breathing, to relax into it, sighing a little as Wyatt worked the foreskin down all the way and started taking Flynn’s cock into his mouth properly, moving slowly up and down.

He pulled off just to say, “babe, you gotta relax,” before swirling his tongue around the head and sliding his mouth back over.

Flynn gasped, his hips twitching. Wyatt made a noise of protest. Flynn sagged against the wall instead and Wyatt made a noise of approval, taking Flynn down a little further each time, until Flynn could feel his cock hitting the back of Wyatt’s throat.

“Fuck,” he swore quietly, shuddering.

Wyatt started to alternate between sucking Flynn down all the way and then tonguing the slit, still keeping up that slower, steadier pace.

His orgasm crept up on him little by little, building until he slid down, slowly, down into it like he was sledding down a hill, the tension draining out of him.

Wyatt stood up, bracing Flynn against the tile wall as Flynn sagged. Wyatt kissed slowly along his shoulders, up his neck, his cheek, and then his mouth. “Better?”

“Much.” Flynn wrapped his arms around Wyatt’s waist. “Do you need…?”

“No.” Wyatt shook his head, resting his cheek on Flynn’s shoulder. “Just wanted to do that for you.”

They held each other until the spray got cold.

 

* * *

 

“Flynn!” Lucy gasped, laughing, as Flynn hauled her up into his arms. “Garcia Flynn, don’t you dare—don’t you dare drop me!”

She clung to him as he laughed, pressing her against the wall of the shower. “Not a chance, _cher_.”

Lucy kissed him, wrapping her legs around him. She loved when he got playful like this. Flynn had been so serious for such a long time, always so tightly wound, his attempts at lightheartedness often awkward or missing the mark.

But now he was soft and relaxed, laughing as he ducked down to suck at her neck, teasing her like it was second nature.

“C’mon,” Lucy gasped. “C’mon, Garcia, fuck me.”

Lucy had to admit that part of the appeal of this was that Flynn was strong enough to lift her up like this so easily—easily enough to keep her up with just one arm. He lined up and slid inside of her, nipping at her neck when Lucy stuttered and cried out at the sensation.

“I love when I can get you to make noise,” Flynn told her, his voice raspy in the way it got when he was turned on. “Sometimes I give into your ridiculous requests because you make the best sounds when you’re overwhelmed.”

“And because you—like giving me—what I want,” Lucy gasped out as Flynn started to thrust inside her.

“That too,” Flynn agreed, bracing his free hand against the wall so that he could fuck her hard and fast.

“Yes,” Lucy breathed into his ear, partially because she knew that he liked it. “God, yes, Garcia—”

He kissed just below her ear. “Yes, Lucy, let me hear you…”

She hooked her feet around his back as Flynn shifted angle, making her cry out. She clawed at his back, trying to use it as leverage to thrust back against him, meeting him as he drove into her.

Everyone could probably hear them but Lucy was so beyond caring it wasn’t even funny. It got so that she couldn’t even make noise, just panting into Flynn’s mouth, feeling like she was a part of the water that ran down their bodies, warm and liquid and scattered.

She did make noise when she came, crying out as Flynn thrust hard, stiffening, and she knew he was coming, she could feel it, and it just hit her all at once how wonderfully dirty it was and she sagged in his arms, lightheaded from all of it.

“I hope you’re willing to carry me for a while,” she said when she got her voice back, “because I can’t feel my legs.”

Flynn just chuckled. “Well, as you just pointed out, I like giving you what you want.”

Lucy smacked him on the shoulder. “Incorrigible.”

“You love me for it.”

“Yes.” She kissed him. “I do.”

 

* * *

 

When Lucy had said ‘join me in the shower’ Wyatt had been under no illusions as to what that meant.

But it still sometimes made him blush in the best way how brazen Lucy was, how boldly she’d just lead him under the spray and press herself up against him, kissing him deep and filthy. Sex was something to be bragged about but later, at the bar, in the locker room, because it was still something shameful—the bragging was in talking about having done something wrong.

Lucy owned her sexuality and her needs. She had no shame. She was open about it but not flaunting it because she was trying to overcompensate for hidden insecurities and defensiveness.

It was refreshing and inspiring.

Wyatt was perfectly content just to kiss her forever if that was what she wanted, but Lucy broke the kiss, turning around and taking Wyatt’s hand, sliding it between her legs. He dipped down to kiss along her shoulder as he slid his fingers into her, his other arm around her waist so that he could keep her upright.

He still sometimes couldn’t believe she let him do this to her. That she loved him and did this with him regularly.

Then Lucy leaned forward, bracing herself on the wall and giving him a wicked grin over her shoulder. Wyatt kissed down her spine as he took himself in hand, pumping a few times before positioning himself and sliding inside of her.

Wyatt groaned, resting his head on the back of Lucy’s shoulder as she gasped, adjusting to him. He slid his fingers through her folds again, finding her clit and rubbing it as he started to thrust.

He was louder than Lucy, something he’d been insecure about before he’d learned that Lucy was usually quiet by nature unless she got into a particularly desperate mood. He sucked along her neck, trying to muffle himself, his other hand rolling and pinching her nipples and he continued to work her clit.

“That’s it,” Lucy encouraged. “You’re—you’re so good, Wyatt, yes, just like that—”

Wyatt loved the way she clenched around him as she came. He kept touching her clit through it, slowing down a bit but not letting up completely, knowing with a little patience…

Lucy let out a helpless little cry and Wyatt started to speed up again, pushing Lucy steadily towards a second orgasm.

She was perfect in his arms and around his cock and he wasn’t going to last much longer. He kept driving into her, trying to maintain his rhythm, until he heard her moan and felt her clench around him again as she started to come a second time.

“Fuck, Wyatt, c’mon,” she gasped, shoving back onto him.

Wyatt gave up trying to maintain anything steady and thrust hard into her, chasing his own high, groaning as Lucy tightened around him and he came, seeing dancing spots in front of his eyes.

Lucy sagged back into him, humming happily. “Thank you.”

He had no idea why she’d be thanking him for doing something that was, honestly, one of the best parts of his life. Getting to be in Lucy’s life at all was a privilege, and he was well aware of that fact.

“Anytime, ma’am,” he teased, kissing her as she chuckled into his mouth.


	35. Getting Handsy

Flynn really wished he could say that he had enough self-control to tell Lucy that he’d gotten her off, now please get out of the kitchen so he could keep baking.

He did not have enough self-control.

“Please?” Lucy asked as he pressed her up against the fridge. “It wouldn’t be right now, I know we’d have to—” She cut herself off as she undid his pants, kissing him roughly as she got his cock in her hand and Flynn groaned into her mouth. “—work up to it.”

“You realize we’re having a conversation about having a certain type of sex… while we have sex.”

Lucy scraped her teeth over Flynn pulse point. “I could always stop the sex, if you’d prefer.”

Flynn lifted her up higher in response so that he could mouth at her breasts through the thin fabric of her dress. Lucy gave a breathless laugh that turned into a moan. “I’ll—take that as a no, then. On your back, handsome.”

He knew he should probably mention there was flour spilled on the floor but he stopped caring about that when Lucy sank down onto him and proceeded to see if she could fuck Flynn’s brains out.

It was a close call.

“I’m serious,” Lucy said into his mouth as he kissed her afterwards, the both of them sticky and messy and the kitchen completely ruined. “I want it. I want you to fuck me with your hand.”

 _Fuck_. Someday he was going to stop giving her what she wanted and someday she was going to suggest something that he wasn’t surprisingly into but today was, apparently, not one of those days.

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

Wyatt stared. “You want—what?”

Flynn sighed. “Look, we both know she’ll push herself even if it starts to hurt so I just want you there to kind of keep an eye on things.”

“She’ll want both our dicks inside her next,” Wyatt grumbled. Then he pointed a finger at Flynn. “Do _not_ tell her that.”

“How was I supposed to know she’d take the suggestion seriously?”

“She takes every suggestion seriously!”

“Just… help me out with it.”

“Of course I’m going to help you out with it.” Wyatt paused. “Um, so… how does it work?”

Flynn sighed again. “Very, very carefully.”

 

* * *

 

Flynn insisted on working Lucy up to it. Lucy wanted to tell him that this was not her first rodeo, thanks, but it was true that the last time she’d done this had been in college and with a woman whose hands were much smaller than Flynn’s.

But oh God she wanted it so badly.

It wasn’t like ‘working up to it’ was a struggle or anything. Wyatt would slide an extra finger or two in when he was fucking her, and Flynn started using three fingers instead of just two when getting her off. She was getting plenty of lovely orgasms out of this.

But when Flynn finally agreed, she wanted to say _Halle-fucking-lujah, about time_.

She didn’t, though, because Flynn had to be comfortable with this too if this was going to work. She’d be as patient as it took for Flynn to be okay with doing this to her.

It added a level of anticipation whenever she saw Flynn with his sleeves rolled up or doing something with his fingers like helping fix up the bunker a bit, or even just idly drumming out a rhythm on his pillow. When on a mission he ended up punching a guy in the face all she could think of were his knuckles, and how they were going to be inside of her soon.

Oh, fuck yes.

Wyatt was there, to keep an eye on things. He clearly thought Lucy was a little crazy but Lucy didn’t see what leg Wyatt had to stand on when all it took was a shot of vodka for him to admit he liked that Flynn looked, quote, ‘almost too big to fit’.

Flynn kissed her, slowly parting her legs. “You sure about this?”

“Yes,” she promised, refraining from a snarky remark. Flynn loved her, he worried about her, he was scared of hurting her. None of those were bad things. “I’m sure, please.”

He kissed her again and slid between her legs, stroking idly through her folds, like they had all the time in the world. Lucy whimpered as he avoided her clit, teasing her, getting her wet and needy for him.

Lucy hitched her leg up, trying to give him better access, moaning as Flynn slid the first finger inside of her. This was nothing more than a tease.

Flynn took his sweet time with just the one, and Wyatt only made it worse by kissing her everywhere else, running his hands over her, getting her worked up even more.

When Flynn added a second finger she moaned, hips jerking when he curled them just the right way. When she looked down she could see his arm moving in and out, hear the sound of him fucking her and her eyes almost rolled back into her head as she slumped back onto the pillows again, panting. His fingers twisted, corkscrewing, and then finally, finally, _finally_ he added a third finger and began to rub his thumb against her clit.

Lucy cried out, shuddering, already feeling so close to the edge. Flynn alternated between touching and avoiding her clit, drawing her to the brink and then yanking her away again, until she thought she’d go mad. All the while those clever fingers were slowly drawing in and out of her, never going as fast as she needed but just dragging slowly, inexorably, along the nerves.

Her vision started blurring as Flynn added the fourth finger. It was a stretch, but a smooth one. The insane amount of lube they were using probably helped with that, but she already felt like she was coasting on that post-orgasm plane, her breath coming in as harsh inhales and then punched out of her.

“You still good? Lucy, you still with us?” Wyatt asked.

“Don’t stop,” she burst out, nodding. “Don’t—fuck don’t stop.”

“We can just do four,” Flynn told her, but he didn’t stop thrusting in and out of her. “We don’t have to…”

“I want,” Lucy stuttered. “Keep going I want—please, I want to… ohhhh fuck I want all of you in me…”

Flynn made a strangled noise and then she felt his fingers pulling out, shifting—and then pushing back in, all five of them, pointer finger to pinkie, until she could feel his knuckles.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , Wyatt was pulling her leg just a little wider and she was just staring into nothing as everything, all of him, slid inside her.

“Oh my God,” she slurred. His knuckles were rubbing right up against her clit from the inside, making her want to scream if only she could find her voice again. Flynn rocked back and forth a little, testing, and Lucy’s entire body jerked, her hands clenching handfuls of the sheets. Oh God oh _fuck_ that felt good, the kind of ridges that it gave felt so—oh God—

Flynn gave it another minute and then began to thrust slowly. His knuckles slid in and out just a little bit, teasing her, the sensation making uncontrollable shivers run up and down her spine.

Lucy managed to prop herself up a little and her exhale turned into a kind of gasp-moan as she watched him slide in and out of her. It looked impossible, and yet it was happening, and she felt stretched and filled and _worked_ and oh _oh_ … Flynn was starting to play around a little, his fingers moving just slightly inside of her, stroking, curling, and Lucy’s head fell back as her body arched.

“I’m—I’m gonna—” she moaned, the words running together, her eyelids fluttering. Her skin was buzzing and her lungs were burning and everything in her was stripped away except for where Flynn was fucking her, fisting her, it was really happening and holy _fuck_ she couldn’t have stopped her orgasm if she’d tried.

This had to be what being boneless felt like.

She felt someone—Wyatt—kissing her, their hand sliding down between her legs to rub at her clit. She gasped, her body shuddering, almost orgasming again right then. He kept massaging her, sometimes touching her clit and sometimes not, until she felt Flynn begin to slowly, slowly, slowly ease out of her.

“You all good?” Flynn asked, pressing a kiss to her jaw.

“I can’t feel my toes,” she admitted. “But otherwise… fuck… yes.”

She literally felt Flynn and Wyatt give twin sighs of relief.

“Maybe no sex for a few days though,” she added. She felt like her vagina had run a marathon.

“That’s what Wyatt is for, right?”

“Hey!”

“We’re going to clean up.” Flynn kissed her again. “Maybe you should nap.”

Nap, yes, that sounded good. She opened her eyes—when had she closed them?—and smiled up at the both of them. “That was really, really, _really_ good for me,” she promised. “Could we do it again sometime?”

“Sometime.” Flynn smiled back at her. “In like a month.”

That sounded fair to her.


	36. Fucking Angry

Flynn stormed after Wyatt down the hallway. “What the fuck was that?” he demanded.

“Oh, like you’ve got any leg to stand on.”

“I’ve got plenty to stand on, thanks,” Flynn snarled. “You could’ve been killed, what kind of reckless, stupid—”

“Like you were any better!” Wyatt yelled, whipping around and getting in Flynn’s face. “You think I was just going to let you get shot?”

“And nearly getting yourself blown to fucking pieces, that was the solution, was it?”

“You aren’t the boss, shockingly enough, you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“How many times do you think you can get away with shit like this—”

“Don’t pretend you know what’s going on in my head—”

Flynn gave a kind of sobbing snarl and yanked Wyatt in by his jacket, smashing their mouths together.

Wyatt growled into his mouth, hands coming up to tug and claw at Flynn’s shoulders as Flynn slammed him into the wall, shoving their bodies together, hips grinding almost mindlessly. “If you’re trying to piss me off,” Flynn said, shaking Wyatt a little, “because you want some fucking pushback—”

“You’re an asshole,” Wyatt informed him, licking savagely back into his mouth.

Flynn kissed Wyatt with everything he had, trying to devour him, pressing into him as much as he could, as if he could make them one person. He wanted to mark Wyatt, mess him up all over, bruise him until Wyatt never even thought about risking himself like that again because Flynn couldn’t fucking _lose_ him—

Wyatt ground into him, thrusting hard, yanking at Flynn’s clothes like he could crawl right inside of Flynn. He kept trying to shout at Flynn but Flynn wouldn’t let up, snatching the words from his mouth.

He slid his hand down between them to undo their pants and Wyatt gave him a vicious shove, making him stumble back. “Fuck no, you’re fucking me properly, you bastard.”

“Takes one to know one,” Flynn shot back, grabbing Wyatt by the collar and dragging him into the bedroom. “If you think this is smoothing anything over—”

Wyatt snorted, shucking off his jacket and slamming the door shut. “Trust me, you’ve done a fantastic job of making it clear that you think I’m an idiot—”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot, I think you’re too—too casual with your life, you think I appreciate that?”

He stormed over to Wyatt, practically tackling him onto the bed, shoving himself between his legs and kissing him for all he was worth. Wyatt tugged angrily at their clothes, getting them undressed by sheer willpower alone as Flynn bit his way down Wyatt’s neck, sucking hard, not even caring if Wyatt hissed a little as Flynn decorated him in pretty purple marks.

Wyatt tried to flip them over so that he was on top, but Flynn wasn’t having that for a second. He flipped them back over, turning Wyatt so that Wyatt was now facedown. Wyatt snarled at him, biting at Flynn’s lips as he kissed him. Flynn wrapped his arm around Wyatt’s waist, hauling them together, wanting to be pressed up everywhere.

“You gonna fuck me or what?” Wyatt demanded, biting at Flynn’s jaw.

Flynn growled, sliding two of his fingers into Wyatt’s mouth. He was half surprised that Wyatt didn’t immediately bite them just to be contrary, although the way Wyatt swirled his tongue around them, a challenge in his eyes, got the point across just as well.

“You think you can just throw your life away and none of us are gonna care?” Flynn asked, yanking his fingers out and sliding them into Wyatt, who groaned and made a choking noise at the sudden stretch but pressed back into it.

“Like you mean it,” Wyatt demanded, shoving himself onto Flynn’s fingers as they twisted inside of him.

“Asking me to take things seriously when you can’t?” Flynn mocked, adding a third finger and curling them, knowing it would hit Wyatt’s prostate and grinning savagely at the yelp Wyatt gave.

“You think I really don’t know what I’m doing?” Wyatt growled, reaching back to grab Flynn’s wrist and yank it out. “And fuck. Me.”

Flynn bit down on the back of Wyatt’s shoulder and slid inside, making Wyatt shudder and groan. “You asked for it.”

“Damn right I asked for it.”

Flynn didn’t bother starting slow, fucking him hard and rough and as fast as he wanted. “Gonna—fuck the stupid—right out of you.”

Wyatt gave a harsh laugh. “Give it your best shot.”

Flynn adjusted his angle just a bit and Wyatt made a startled, pleased gasp as Flynn hit the perfect spot. He could hardly even see anymore, just wanted to drive into Wyatt until he’d somehow imprinted himself in there, gotten in so deep that even when he pulled out they’d never truly be separated.

He wanted to see Wyatt’s face, he wanted to kiss him properly, so he pulled out, ignoring the angry noise of protest that Wyatt made, flipping him over, and sliding right back in again.

Wyatt hooked a leg around Flynn and thrust back into him, demanding everything that Flynn could give him, his nails striping Flynn’s chest and shoulders as he clawed at him. Flynn tangled their fingers, pinning Wyatt’s hands down on the bed, kissing him savagely as he started to thrust into him again.

He couldn’t be sure who was groaning, who was doing what, breathing in Wyatt and breathing out Wyatt. When they weren’t kissing Wyatt was sucking at Flynn’s throat, marking Flynn up the way Flynn had done to him, their chests vibrating, the headboard smacking angrily against the concrete wall like some parody of Flynn’s racing heart.

Wyatt yelled into Flynn’s mouth, tightening around him and coming, his body jerking, and when Flynn kissed him again he tasted salt, his ears roaring, his orgasm like a blow to the head.

He kept his eyes closed, still kissing Wyatt, knowing Wyatt wouldn’t want him to see the tears Flynn could taste on his lips.

“I was terrified,” Wyatt admitted. “I was so scared and I didn’t know what to do and I just—I know it was stupid. But they had you in their sights and I was scared.”

Flynn pulled back just enough to rest their foreheads together. He could feel the anger draining out of him, replaced by the need to just hold, and touch, and keep safe. “I—I can’t say that I don’t understand that but—I can’t. Lose you. You have to stop being so fucking reckless because one day your luck’s going to run out and I can’t lose you.”

He released his hold on Wyatt’s hands and Wyatt wrapped his arms around him, pressing them together, legs tangled, chests heaving against each other as they caught their breath.

“I’ll try,” Wyatt whispered, the words pressed against Flynn’s lips.

Flynn just kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, and didn't let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a pun, geddit? Because you're 'fucking angry' but you're 'fucking while angry'...? No? Shut up I'm hilarious.


	37. Enhancement

They were at a Nazi eugenics lab in World War II, and frankly Wyatt thought that was all that needed to be said on the matter.

He and Flynn were firing at Emma and the rest of Rittenhouse, glass beakers shattering left and right. It felt like he was in a Bond film, or a Captain America film, or—really, just anything involving an evil team trying to promote stupid backwards scientific practices.

“Get down!” Flynn yelled at Lucy, who was trying to grab the files Emma was after so that she could destroy them.

Lucy, determined as ever, grabbed the files.

Emma fired.

The bullet missed, hitting a vial of liquid right near Lucy’s face.

Lucy shielded her face, no bad glass cuts, thank God, but the liquid spilled all over her and a bit on Flynn, who was crouched below her. Flynn yanked her back, the files still clutched triumphantly in Lucy’s hand.

“We gotta go,” Wyatt said, firing off again.

Lucy pulled out her lighter and set the files aflame, dropping them in a trash can.

“I’ll cover you,” Flynn said, standing up and firing.

Wyatt grabbed Lucy and they ran out of the room, meeting up with Rufus in the hallway. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“Define ‘okay’,” Wyatt replied.

That was when Lucy said, “Hey, Wyatt?” and he turned to face her and she kissed him.

Getting kissed by Lucy wasn’t out of the ordinary. But doing it in the middle of a mission? That was strange.

So was the way she was doing it. It was like she was drunk, desperate, kissing him and grabbing at his clothes, trying to undo his shirt.

Wyatt yanked himself back, panting. “Lucy—what—”

“Okay, this is weird,” Rufus said.

“No shit, Sherlock.” Wyatt batted her hands away as Lucy reached for him again. “The hell? Luce?”

“God, Wyatt.” Lucy sounded odd, too. When Wyatt looked at her eyes, he saw that her pupils were blown wide. “I want…”

She stepped forward again, cupping him through his pants and kissing his neck.

Flynn yanked her back around the waist. “What the fuck?”

“Don’t look at me,” Wyatt replied. “Her eyes, look at her eyes.”

Flynn turned to look Lucy in the eye, and that’s when she kissed him, too. “I want to fuck you, please, or Wyatt, or both, you can take turns I just—”

Flynn managed to push Lucy away from him. “She’s been drugged somehow.”

“The liquid.” Wyatt snapped his fingers. “The liquid that got on her. Must’ve been some kind of aphrodisiac.”

“What the hell would they want with something like that?” Rufus asked.

“Easier to get people to make perfect Aryan babies for you if they’re pushed into sexual overdrive,” Flynn replied.

“Fuck,” Wyatt swore. Did this mean Lucy would want to have sex with any person that crossed her path?

“Lucy!” Flynn snapped his fingers in her face. “Lucy. Do you want to kiss Rufus?”

Lucy stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “What? No. Why are you asking?” Her eyes got foggy with tears. “Do you not… want me?”

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Flynn growled. “Rufus, get her onto the Lifeboat.”

“At least she only wants to have sex with us,” Wyatt pointed out. “Her free will isn’t gone, it’s just heightened to the point where…”

“Where she’ll have sex with us in front of Rufus while we’re getting shot at,” Flynn growled.

Wyatt frowned. “You seem… oddly worked up about this.”

“Why wouldn’t I be worked up about this?” Flynn snapped.

“You’re just usually… very calm about handling these kinds of things,” Wyatt replied.

Flynn stared at him for a moment, and then his gaze darted down to Wyatt’s mouth and Wyatt remembered—a bit of the liquid had gotten on Flynn, too.

“Garcia.” Wyatt tried to keep his voice firm. “You okay?”

Flynn nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I’m… I have a handle on it. I think.” His eyes were dark and hungry, like he wanted to just shove Wyatt to the ground and devour him and Wyatt had to repress the instinctual urge to ask for exactly that.

Behind them, he heard Emma’s angry yell. That snapped Flynn out of it. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

Lucy’s tongue felt heavy.

Everything in her either felt too heavy or too light. Her head, that felt too light.

God, she was so turned on. If she could just get a little pressure… get her hand between her legs…

“Honey?” That was Wyatt. His face swam into focus. “Hey, hey, Lucy, hon, look at me. How’re you feeling?”

Like she’d just jumped through time while high on some kind of drug.

“Like I want you to fuck me.”

“Oh God,” Rufus said, pained.

“Tell Denise what happened,” Flynn said. “Lucy and I are both compromised.”

“Both of you?” Rufus asked.

Whatever he saw on Flynn’s face next must’ve convinced him because Rufus then scrambled out of the Lifeboat saying, “Oh yeah, super compromised, never look at me like that again, fucking Christ.”

Wyatt helped her out of her seat. It felt like she was clumsy about anything that wasn’t getting their clothes off. Wyatt’s buttons, though, those came off real easily.

“Stop it.” Wyatt grabbed her wrists. “No, Lucy. Not until we’re in the bedroom.”

She whimpered. God it was like pressure was just building and building in her and she felt all liquid hot and she wanted so very badly—

“It’s getting worse,” Flynn said through gritted teeth. “I think whatever this is, you need a release of dopamine or oxytocin or something to get it to stop. Otherwise you just…”

“Get more out of control, yeah, I get the idea.” Wyatt grabbed Lucy, hauling her to her feet. “Figures they’d do something like that, force you into having sex or you go insane.”

“It’s the Nazis, what did you expect, flowers?”

They got out of the Lifeboat, Wyatt carrying her. She knew she wasn’t supposed to kiss him right now but she couldn’t help herself. Maybe just a few small kisses on his neck wouldn’t hurt?

“Rufus wasn’t kidding,” Mason said as they walked past him. “She is out of it.”

“Thank you, Mason, we appreciate the commentary,” Flynn snapped. “Feel free to stop staring any time now.”

“Please?” Lucy didn’t even realize she was going to say it until she did. Then it felt like the only word she knew. “Please, please, please, Wyatt, I need—I need it I need you in me so badly—”

They got into the bedroom and Flynn closed the door behind them. “You first,” Wyatt told him.

Lucy didn’t know why but she didn’t mind. Wyatt set her down on the bed and she immediately started stripping, grabbing Flynn and yanking him towards her. Flynn kissed her hungrily, without question, and something in her clicked and she recognized the desperation she had in him, but then Flynn was shoving her down onto the bed to fuck her and she wasn’t thinking about much of anything other than _there yes please_.

Flynn fucked her hard and fast and she really, really liked it, but it wasn’t nearly enough. She wanted—needed—more, she could already feel the itch building again. She clawed at his back as he came, wishing he wouldn’t pull out, wanting him to stay hard and fucking her forever.

“You okay?” Wyatt asked.

“Better,” Flynn said. “I don’t want to shove you down and fuck you raw anymore.”

“Please don’t say things like that when you can’t deliver.”

“You can fuck me,” Lucy said brightly, looking over at Wyatt.

He pointed at her. “She still looks high.”

“She got doused with the entire thing of it.”

Wyatt paused for a moment as the implications of this began to set in. “…oh fucking hell.”

He got onto the bed and Lucy happily wiggled out from underneath Flynn, climbing into Wyatt’s lap and helping him yank his shirt off. “Is having sex with your wife really such a bad thing?” she cooed, kissing up his chest.

“When we might have to do it all night to get all the toxin out of your system?” Wyatt replied. “It’s a little daunting, yeah.”

“That’s what I have vibrators for,” Lucy replied. She still didn’t quite see what the problem was. Wyatt could fuck her and then Flynn would be ready to go again and he could fuck her and then Wyatt and then Flynn and then…

“The gleam in your eye is very disconcerting,” Wyatt admitted, and then Lucy was kissing him and didn’t really let him come up for air for a while.

Wyatt she just flipped onto his back and fucked him that way, riding him, not even bothering to try and be quiet. She was aware, in the dimly lit back part of her brain where all her rationality was currently stored, that she wasn’t normally this loud. But who cared what she did or didn’t do normally? All that mattered was right now, getting that orgasm, chasing that high, relieving the burning pressure between her legs.

Time seemed to blur as to how many times she had sex, and with whom, and in what position. She loved running her hands over them, kissing them, feeling them pinning her down or straining underneath her. At one point Flynn did grab one of the vibrators and used that on her, and she got a few orgasms from that before she shoved it aside and pressed herself against Wyatt again, asking please, please, please, Wyatt, it’ll feel so good, she’d make it feel so good for him, she wanted him so badly.

She felt tired and wide awake at the same time, like she’d stayed up for two days and had a fuckton of coffee. But she couldn’t let up, she had to keep going, because the only thing that got rid of the desperation she felt burning up her blood was when she had one of them inside her, filling her up, making her moan. She was begging for it in a way she never did, scratching and clawing like a cat, twisting and shoving her hips down to take more. Fingers weren’t enough, it was never enough, she had to feel herself clenching around something hot and hard, she needed to be pushed to the edge of too much.

She had no idea when it happened, but at some point, she fell asleep. She knew she fell asleep only because she knew when she woke up.

Her eyes flew open and her stomach heaved and she barely made it to the bathroom in time, yesterday’s lunch ending up in the toilet.

The bathroom door opened behind her and she heard Flynn run over. “Hey, hey _cher_ it’s okay, just let it all out.”

“Fuck,” she spat out. She no longer felt like a cat in heat but she sure felt hungover.

“Yeah, that was me a couple hours ago. Here, drink this.” Flynn gave her a glass of water.

She threw up a few more times, than drank some more water, and then let Flynn carry her back to bed because her legs were shaky.

“I can see why they never implemented that,” Wyatt groaned, turning over in bed and squinting at them as they entered the room.

“What do you mean,” Flynn said dryly. “It was a total success.”

“If anything could get me pregnant,” Lucy muttered, “It would be twenty rounds of fucking.” Thank God for IUDs.

Flynn deposited her in bed and Lucy curled up in between them, shivering. She felt awful. “No offense, but I might not have sex with you for like a week.”

“I don’t know if I’m even capable of having sex again,” Wyatt grumbled.

“Does that mean I don’t have to fulfill my promise from earlier?” Flynn noted lightly.

Wyatt went pink and said, “Okay so maybe I’m capable.”

Lucy just groaned. “Stop talking. I had sex literally all night long, that’s got to be a record.” Part of her wished she could remember it better, but part of her was glad she couldn’t. She didn’t want to remember what she’d been like then, drugged up and desperate.

Wyatt lay down again, pulling her into his chest as Flynn ran his fingers through her hair. “Don’t be embarrassed,” Flynn murmured. “You weren’t in control. We’re glad it wasn’t worse and we’re glad we could help get it out of your system painlessly. It wasn’t like we didn’t enjoy it.”

“It was exhausting as all hell but yeah, there are worse ways to go,” Wyatt added. “You still only wanted us, honey. You weren’t mindless. And we love you, and you love us, and we know that.”

“It wasn’t like this revealed anything we didn’t already know,” Flynn joked.

Lucy lightly swatted him. “Thank you.”

“In sickness and in health,” Flynn reminded her, settling down on her other side.

Lucy flushed. Thank God for her boys.

But seriously, never doing that again. Not worth the hangover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this was my version of the 'sex pollen' trope.


	38. Commanding

Wyatt knew Flynn could be dangerous.

He’d known that from the first moment he’d met the guy. On their second meeting Flynn had shot him. He’d watched Flynn shoot down a group of mafia men like it was nothing. Flynn was a one-man army.

But sometimes, he forgot that Flynn was just as dangerous even when weapons weren’t involved.

Like now, when Flynn was masquerading as a businessman to convince a group of other powerful men not to agree to the admittedly-tantalizing deal that Emma and Rittenhouse were offering them.

It also really, really didn't help that Flynn was wearing a goddamn fantastic suit to go with it, sharp and classy with a dark red tie that Wyatt wasn't sure if he wanted wrapped around his hand to yank Flynn in and kiss him or wrapped around his throat.

Lucy had posed as Flynn’s secretary but she’d been sent out of the room almost at once because she apparently wasn’t important enough to be privy to such information. So they’d sent Wyatt in to replace her as Flynn’s backup, posing as Flynn’s junior associate.

On his way in, Lucy had caught him around the wrist. “We’re getting him for this later.”

“What do you mean?” Wyat had asked in response.

But he’d had to hurry to catch up and so hadn’t gotten an answer.

Now Wyatt watched, mouth dry as Flynn stood smoothly up from the conference table. “On moment, please. I’ll just have my associate get you the files.” He paused. “From my secretary.”

The admonition was clear. _If you hadn’t sent her from the room, idiots, we wouldn’t have to worry about this._

Welcome to the ‘50s.

Or the 2010s, come to think of it. But the 1950s was where they were now.

Flynn walked over to Wyatt, still exuding that totally confident, totally predatory, totally commanding air that he’d been maintaining throughout this entire meeting.

Wyatt wanted to get on his knees and beg for it.

Flynn leaned in so that the others couldn’t hear, his mouth right at Wyatt’s ear. Wyatt had to work to keep a straight face so that the others wouldn’t realize just how goddamn turned on this was making him.

“I need you to tell Lucy what you’ve just heard and find somewhere, anywhere, a typewriter she can use to fudge a draft in response. Pretend she went out for coffee and that’s why it took so long.”

Wyatt nodded. From where Flynn was positioned in front of him, nobody could see how Flynn’s fingers briefly tangled with Wyatt’s, something Flynn probably meant as a reassuring gesture. A lot was riding on this. If these industrialists agreed to back Rittenhouse it could give the organization all the funding that had been stripped from them with Ethan’s work and Denise’s raids.

But Wyatt wasn’t nervous. He was turned on, dammit.

Flynn pulled away and Wyatt almost swayed on the spot. He nodded, trying to look professional, and hurried out of the room.

“You see what I mean?” Lucy hissed. She glanced towards the now-closed conference room doors. “I’m going to either suck or fuck his brains out and I can’t decide which.”

“Think about it while we get this written up, okay? Where’s Rufus?”

“Playing the ‘How Much Can an Invisible Man Get Away With’ game,” Lucy replied.

“Ah.” A classic.

 

* * *

 

Flynn entered the bedroom and almost slumped back against the door. Jesus, that had been intense. Negotiating for hours and basically pulling half of it out of his ass.

But they’d bought it. They hadn’t agreed to Emma’s contract.

He heard Wyatt and Lucy enter behind him and reached up to start undoing his tie. He felt bad—they’d had to pretend to be his employees all day. Wyatt had just stood there in the corner for forever, that couldn’t have been fun.

But then he felt Lucy’s slim hand grabbing his wrist and yanking him around, and the next thing he knew she was kissing the living daylights out of him.

“Do you have any idea,” she murmured against his mouth, kissing him again, “how hot you were in there?”

She pressed herself up against him, taking his hand and sliding it under her skirt so that he could feel how wet she was.

“That’s from watching you,” she whispered. “Thinking about you. All. Day. Long.”

She pushed him back lightly so that he sat on the bed and she could climb onto him, undoing his tie and pushing his jacket off before kissing him again, letting him run his hands over her curves. She ground against him a few times, let him start to get hard, get hot under the collar, and then moved to the side, still kissing him, her hand in the center of his chest to keep him down.

Flynn felt larger hands undoing his belt and remembered Wyatt. He broke his kiss with Lucy to look down and see Wyatt gazing at him with unabashed hunger, his eyes bright.

“You could literally have told me to do anything in that room and I would’ve done it,” Wyatt admitted, his voice hoarse as he pushed down Flynn’s pants, getting out Flynn’s cock and stroking it slowly. “I think my knees almost buckled once.”

Then he sank his mouth down over Flynn’s cock.

Flynn’s hips jerked and he groaned, but then Lucy was kissing him again and unbuttoning his shirt, running her hands over his chest. Wyatt was setting a brutal pace, drawing Flynn straight from aroused to desperate, pushing him to the edge with his tongue as he drew it along the sensitive underside and sucked at the head.

“Such skill should be rewarded, don’t you think?” Lucy cooed.

Wyatt sank all the way down—a little too far down, perhaps, judging by how his eyes watered—and then pulled off, standing up to give Lucy room and to take off his own clothes.

Lucy kissed Flynn again, her fingers working quickly and cleverly to finish getting his clothes off as well as her own. Flynn groaned, digging his hands into her hair, until Lucy pulled away from him and slid down to get her mouth on his cock. He barely had time to process that, to feel her tongue giving exploring little kitten licks up and down before he had Wyatt in his arms again, kissing Flynn in a desperate way that told Flynn that Wyatt had been wanting to do this all day.

Flynn’s instinct was to roll, getting Wyatt underneath him, but he couldn’t with Lucy holding his hips down and sliding her mouth over his cock—which he highly suspected was her reason for doing that. He growled a little into Wyatt’s mouth but Wyatt just pulled back to grin in response, looking triumphant at finally having gotten the upper hand for a minute, even if he’d needed Lucy’s help to do it.

Then Lucy pulled off, smirking and moving out of the way, and Flynn pounced.

The look of surprise on Wyatt’s face was fantastic, as was rolling him over so that Flynn could kiss him and wedge a leg between them, grinding his hips and making Wyatt moan. But then Lucy was sliding her hands over Flynn’s shoulders and kissing up his spine, until she got to his ear.

“I want to fuck you,” she whispered, and Flynn couldn’t have stopped the way his whole body shuddered, even if he’d felt like pretending that didn’t affect him. “Play with Wyatt first…” She slid her hand down between the two men, her fingertips dancing over Flynn’s stomach. “…but leave some for me.”

She pulled back, and then Wyatt was kissing him again and grinding hard against him and Flynn’s eyes would’ve crossed if they’d been open. He shifted, grabbing Wyatt’s thigh and hoisting it up, moving to give them a better angle to thrust in, and Wyatt moaned helplessly into Flynn’s mouth, his one hand digging into Flynn’s shoulder while the other tangled in Flynn’s hair, holding Flynn in place to keep kissing him.

It was only the promise of getting inside Lucy that kept him from losing control completely as he fucked against Wyatt, Wyatt’s helpless little pants and whimpers pouring into his mouth, all of Wyatt’s hot, pliant, muscled body under him and against him, until he felt Wyatt arch up and then sag down into the mattress, spilling onto both of them in hot spurts, gazing up at Flynn dazedly.

Flynn kissed him one more time, deep and sloppy, and then looked over at Lucy. She was looking at them with unabashed heat, three of her fingers twisting lazily in and out of herself. She’d never been afraid to make it known how much she loved watching the two of them, and tonight it was etched out in every line of her body even if she didn’t say it out loud.

She withdrew her fingers from inside herself and got up onto her knees. Her gaze flicked down to the mattress, then back up to Flynn. “Come here.”

He went, of course he went, and when she pulled him in to kiss him he gave as good as he got. He heard Wyatt move a little to the side, out of the way where he could watch, as Lucy pushed him down onto the bed and straddled him.

“Going to take my sweet time with you,” she warned, sliding onto him. “Had to wait… for hours… watching you wrap those bastards around your little finger… gonna make you wait a little too.”

She slid all the way up off of him, and then back down again, clenching and twisting her hips a little in a way that made Flynn see stars. “I’m going to make you beg, handsome.”

There was really no response to that other than to hold on and let Lucy do what she wanted to him.

And she did, slow and teasing, swiveling her hips, changing the pace up on him so that he couldn’t fall into it too easily, gasping and struggling to keep up, yanked from the brink again and again as she’d go from slow and deep to fast and shallow or hard and punishing to light and teasing.

At one point Wyatt got his breath back and kissed up Flynn’s arm to his chest, his neck, planting slow, deep kisses on Flynn’s mouth and raking his hand through Flynn’s hair before starting back down again, kissing Lucy as well here and there, sliding his hand across her breasts and sucking a hickey into her neck. Enhancing everything, making it all that much harder to hold back from climax.

But even if she hadn’t said it, he suspected that Lucy wanted him to wait for her order—to make him wait as he’d made her wait, even if it had been inadvertent on his part.

At last she bent over, bracing her hands on either side of his head, tiny gasps emerging with bubbles of sound that she couldn’t hold back. “Fuck me,” she whispered. She arched her eyebrow, somehow looking like a queen despite it all. “Fuck me like you ruled that boardroom.”

She nudged him, indicating for him to roll over, and Flynn took that for the invitation it was. He flipped them, sliding out momentarily and then sliding back in, getting his hand around to the small of her back to tilt her hips up better and fucking into her. Lucy grabbed at him, kissing him savagely, taking all that he could give her and demanding with each sob of pleasure for more.

Flynn dug the nails of his free hand into the mattress, holding his orgasm back even as he thrust into her hard and brutal, completely in control by Lucy’s request, not letting up until she gave one last helpless twist of her hips and dug her hands into him, possibly drawing blood, and collapsed against him, whimpering.

He didn’t even need to slide in again, his orgasm draining out of him at once, Lucy’s climax the last string that snapped his resolve.

Holy _fuck_.

“So what I’m hearing,” he managed to croak out, even as he realized he couldn’t feel his legs, “is that you want me to be in charge of negotiations more often.”

“Yes,” Lucy and Wyatt both said at once.

Flynn supposed he could live with that.


	39. Tutoring

Lucy flexed as Flynn double-checked the cuffs. “You all good?”

“All good,” she confirmed, smiling up at him.

“Safeword?”

“Hindenburg.”

Flynn kissed her softly, then turned and looked at Wyatt. “You all good?”

Wyatt nodded. “Yup.”

Lucy wiggled a little, testing the give of the cuffs. She watched as Flynn slid his hand over Wyatt’s shoulders, kissing him in that slow, deep way that seemed to flip that switch in Wyatt’s brain and make him go from tense and every day Wyatt to boneless and submissive Wyatt.

Flynn kept kissing him, his hands moving slowly down, down Wyatt’s body until he had a good grip on Wyatt’s hips and could tug him in, pressing the two of them together. Lucy bit her lip, rubbing her thighs together. God, she loved watching them.

When Flynn pulled back, Wyatt had that beautifully dazed look in his eyes. “Mmm, perfect,” Flynn hummed, his thumb coming up to press against Wyatt’s chin, gently tugging until Wyatt’s mouth opened a little, his eyes heavy and lidded as Flynn licked his way back into Wyatt’s mouth again.

Flynn pulled back for good this time. “Look at you,” he murmured. Wyatt flushed, always equal parts embarrassed and pleased with praise.

“Go ahead.” Flynn nodded towards Lucy. “Start by kissing her.” He paused, thinking. “On the stomach. Work your way up, slowly. Ignore her breasts, get up to her mouth.”

Wyatt slid down, watching as Lucy shivered. Somehow knowing what was coming didn’t make it any less hot. The anticipation still buzzed in her.

Flynn bent over, whispering “take your time” in Wyatt’s ear, shooting Lucy a sly smirk as he sat back on his knees.

Wyatt pressed a soft kiss to her stomach, then another, crawling slowly—excruciatingly slowly—up her body. He seemed determined to taste every part of her skin, to see if she felt any different under his lips in one spot compared to another one an inch away. Lucy bit her lip, struggling not to try and twist up into Wyatt’s mouth. She wanted him to either go lower or higher, to suck at her nipples, to lick into her folds, but instead he just continued slowly upward, following Flynn’s instructions.

He kissed up her neck—and then Flynn said, “suck a little. Leave some marks.”

Lucy let out a small moan as she felt Wyatt’s teeth come into play, nipping lightly at her pulse point, taking a mouthful and sucking until her hips jerked helplessly and then soothing it with his tongue.

She needed more, she needed something to relieve the pressure between her legs, the heat pooling deep and low inside of her.

“Get a handful of her hair,” Flynn instructed. “Tug on that, she likes that. She likes it when you tug on her ear with your teeth, too.”

“Gonna give away all my secrets?” Lucy asked, right before Wyatt got a good amount of hair and tugged on it, forcing her to tilt her head to the side. She shuddered, her toes curling.

“See?” Flynn said, smirking.

Wyatt hummed, kissing slowly up underneath her jaw to her earlobe, tugging on it with his teeth before kissing across her cheek and then pausing, just a hair’s breadth away from her lips.

Lucy tried to crane her head up to kiss him but Wyatt’s grip on her hair was firm, keeping her from moving. “Flynn, please.”

“Go ahead,” Flynn said.

Wyatt kissed her and she moaned, licking right in, taking control of the kiss because Flynn and Wyatt might supposedly be in control right now, she might be letting Flynn give away all her secrets and teach Wyatt all the ways she liked to be fucked but she was still the one in charge at the end of the day dammit and she’d kiss Wyatt however she damn well wanted.

She felt Wyatt being tugged back and opened her eyes to find Flynn had gotten a handful of Wyatt’s hair and had tugged him back, kissing Wyatt’s jaw to show he wasn’t upset.

“Nice try,” Flynn told her.

Lucy shrugged. “He’s just so easy.”

“We could just leave you here,” Wyatt pointed out.

“But could you really?” she asked, batting her eyes at him.

Wyatt looked over at Flynn helplessly.

Flynn laughed and kissed him. “You’re such a pushover.”

“You like it,” Wyatt grumbled.

“Yes, yes we do.” Lucy wiggled again. “Come on now, you were about to go down on me?”

“He was kissing you, Lucy,” Flynn growled.

Lucy opened her mouth to reply that he could kiss her _while_ going down on her but then Wyatt’s tongue was in her mouth and she just had to suck on that and nip at his lip a little because why not?

Flynn whispered something in Wyatt’s ear, something Lucy couldn’t hear over the roaring in her ears, and then she felt Wyatt’s hand sliding between her legs and oh, _oh_.

“Keep it slow,” she heard Flynn murmur that time. Lucy moaned in frustration, loving and hating how she was restrained like this.

Suddenly Wyatt pulled away and was between her legs, licking at her clit and through her folds as his fingers curled inside of her and Lucy saw stars, her legs shaking and hips tilting up.

“Oh, fuck,” she spat as Wyatt pulled away, kissing slowly back up her stomach. “I’m going to kill you both.”

“No you’re not,” Flynn replied, far too cheerful and smug for her liking. “You can do what you like with her breasts now, Wyatt, she likes teeth.”

Lucy strained against the cuffs as Wyatt swirled his tongue around one of her nipples, biting it lightly and tugging just the slightest bit before sucking and then lapping at it.

“Go down to her ankles,” Flynn said. “Kiss up her legs.”

Wyatt did more than kiss, sucking and licking slowly, savoring, following a few murmured instructions from Flynn on where and how and when. Lucy thought she might vibrate out of existence, straining, her hips trying to thrust up into thin air.

Flynn leaned up to her, kissing her temple softly. “You ready to beg for it?”

“Not a chance.”

“I can keep him doing this all night.”

Wyatt dipped down to give little kitten licks to her clit and Lucy couldn’t help the small noise that emerged from the back of her throat.

Flynn raised an eyebrow at her. “Pull back,” he told Wyatt.

Lucy sighed. “Please?” she asked. “Please, Flynn, please let him fuck me.”

Flynn kissed her, pulling back before she could bite him in retaliation. He leaned over to Wyatt and whispered in his ear. Wyatt nodded, then crawled over to hover between her legs, kissing her. “You good Luce?”

“I’d be better if you’d get your dick in me, sweetheart, but yeah I’m good.” She winked at him.

Wyatt snorted with laughter and swung a leg over her, kissing down her neck as he entered her. He only went in about halfway before pulling out, teasing her, giving her shallow little thrusts that slowly opened her up without giving her the full stretch that she wanted.

“Oh my God,” Lucy burst out. “Wyatt, Garcia, _please_.”

Flynn nodded at Wyatt and he finally slid all the way into her, giving her a minute to adjust, rolling his hips to make sure she was good before he started to thrust in completely, deep and hard strokes that had her seeing stars.

“Fuck yes,” she moaned.

Flynn, the bastard, still kept murmuring in Wyatt’s ear, telling him when to slow down, when to speed up, changing the pace just enough to snatch climax from her a few times. She squirmed helplessly, yanking at her cuffs, her heel digging into Wyatt’s back. “I want—I need—Flynn, c’mon, please, fuck you know I’m—I’m so close—”

“Go ahead,” Flynn told Wyatt.

As he spoke, he threaded his hand between them and started rubbing Lucy’s clit, as Wyatt kissed her savagely, angling his hips in just the right way that was so perfect he had to have been purposefully avoiding it before on Flynn’s orders, and oh, oh, _oh._

Jesus. Holy. Fuck.

Flynn guided Wyatt to lie down as he kissed him slowly, chuckling as he pulled back and then undid Lucy’s cuffs, massaging her wrists.

She struck, neatly sliding out and turning over so that Flynn was beneath her.

“You wore him out,” she said, indicating Wyatt. “But it’s your turn now, stud.”

Flynn grinned up at her, looking immensely pleased that she’d once again gotten one over on him—literally this time.

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” he said with a grin.

Lucy kissed him, pulling back slowly so that their lips parted with a wet _pop_. The night was still young, if you asked her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For timeline purposes, I imagine this takes place rather early on in their getting together as a threesome.


	40. Scruff

The past few days had been… hectic, to say the least. They’d been running themselves ragged with Emma’s latest initiative and none of them had much time for anything resembling personal hygiene other than the fastest of showers. Lucy had gone to bed with makeup still plastered to her face a couple of times and Wyatt looked like he was sleepwalking half the time.

And Flynn…

Flynn hadn’t shaved.

He had proper scruff now, not an actual beard but rough and making him look even more rakish than usual, especially when his hair stuck up a little from when he ran a hand through it.

It was very, very distracting.

Lucy wanted that all over her damn body. She just needed the right opportunity, when they were no longer focused on Rittenhouse but before Flynn had enough time to shave it.

When they piled out of the Lifeboat—again—but with Emma having taken a knife to the shoulder (courtesy of Flynn, which should not have been nearly so sexy as Lucy found it) they were relatively certain they had a day or two to recover before having to jump again.

Rufus staggered to the couch, collapsed on it, and didn’t move. Jiya walked over and prodded and moved him until his head was on her lap and turned on the TV.

“I’m going home,” Denise said. She’d been camping out in the bunker the past few days. “Let me know if anything happens.”

“I’m sleeping for two days,” Mason groaned, staggering off to bed.

Wyatt groaned, then walked over to Flynn, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him deeply. Flynn made a muffled noise of surprise but then kissed Wyatt back, gripping his hips and dragging Wyatt against him, kissing him until Wyatt was making pleased noises in the back of his throat. Flynn kissed down Wyatt’s neck as Wyatt lazily threaded his fingers through Flynn’s hair, then pulled back, grinning at him sleepily.

“Wanted to do that just once before you shaved,” he admitted, dragging the back of his knuckles along Flynn’s stubbled cheek. “I’m off to bed.”

He kissed Lucy, and she was quite happy to keep that up for a few minutes, feeling Wyatt’s warm, heavy body against hers, the lazy swipes of his tongue starting up a fire in her stomach.

“Sleep well sweetheart, we’ll join you in a minute,” she told him, pecking him on the lips.

Wyatt nodded, then headed to the bedroom.

Flynn looked at her, an eyebrow raised. “I take it we’re not going to bed?”

“Nope.” She took his hand and started leading him down the hallway. “Unless you’re too tired?”

“More like wired.”

“Good.” Lucy yanked him into her, raking her hands through his hair and kissing him slick and messy. “Because I want your mouth between my thighs.”

“You and Wyatt both, huh?” Flynn asked against her lips, kissing her all over, down and up her neck, her jaw, her cheeks.

“Uh-huh.” Lucy grinned, pulling back to finish leading him towards the bathroom. “You look like bad news, handsome.” In the absolute best way. Like the kind of guy that her mom would’ve hated for her to bring home.

She locked the door behind them and found herself turned, pushed back against the wall, her skirt hiked up around her waist.

Flynn rubbed his cheek against her inner thighs and she hummed appreciatively, spreading her legs as Flynn slowly worked his way up to where she was already starting to get wet. He pushed up a little higher, kissing her stomach.

“You’re going to have beard burn after this,” he noted.

“Don’t care,” Lucy panted, clutching at his shoulders as Flynn darted his tongue out to lick at her folds, as if sampling how wet she was.

Flynn gave a musing sort of hum, and then licked a proper stripe right at the center of her, his tongue twisting in and making her keen. His scruff was rough against her sensitive skin, adding an edge to everything he did and making her shiver, brushing the beginnings of oversensitivity.

Lucy gasped as Flynn pulled away, pushing himself up to kiss her cleavage, her clavicle, all the places her daring neckline exposed, planting one on her lips before going back down to his knees and licking into her again, this time focusing on her clit, twisting his face a little so that the scruff rubbed against it, making Lucy jerk and moan every time.

“I’m going to have to forget to shave more often,” Flynn noted, pulling back so that he could slide a finger inside of her.

“Please… do…” Lucy pushed out. “Ah…”

“That’s it, darling, let me know how you like it,” Flynn teased, sliding another finger into her and twisting them in and out slowly.

Lucy wove her hand through his hair, gripping hard. “Garcia please—”

He leaned back in and licked around his fingers, sliding his tongue in with them, scraping his teeth along her clit, then biting at her inner thighs as he continued to finger her.

God, yes, she loved this extra texture the scruff gave, the way she felt a little dirty, getting eaten out in the bathroom by a guy who looked like the personification of bad news. The part of her that liked feeling bad was purring.

Flynn pulled his fingers out and used his broad hands to part her thighs even farther, getting his tongue in her, sealing his mouth over her clit, and sucking.

Lucy gave a kind of whimper-moan and her knees buckled completely, gasping as she watched Flynn happily continue to suck and lick at her, not letting up.

“Fuck, what—Garcia—”

He wasn’t stopping, oh fuck he wasn’t stopping, the rough feeling of the scruff and his tongue and the suction and oh God oh she could feel another orgasm building, another tsunami right on the heels of the first, oh please oh please oh please oh _God_.

Only Flynn’s arm at her waist pinning her to the wall kept her from collapsing to the floor. Her fingers were shaking, and she couldn’t feel her feet.

“I’m…” she only managed to slur the one word before her voice failed her.

Flynn looked up at her, smug but still checking to make sure she was all right. “You’re…?”

Lucy flipped him off.

Flynn chuckled, standing up and kissing her once, twice, three times. “Shower?”

“Shower.”

The next morning, Flynn was clean shaven. Wyatt and Lucy, however, had very red cheeks and necks.

“Did you two get an allergic reaction or something?” Rufus asked, still looking half-zombified.

Jiya took one look and smirked. “Oh yes, a reaction to orga—”

Flynn elbowed her.

“—nics in the Lifeboat,” Jiya finished.

Lucy leaned in. “It’s even worse on my thighs,” she whispered.

“Worth it?” Jiya asked.

Lucy looked over at Flynn, who was pouring coffee for Wyatt, who was still sleepy enough he was letting Flynn prop him up and hadn't yet registered anyone else existed. Flynn caught Lucy watching him and winked at her. She grinned. “Oh, so worth it.”


	41. Plastered

“Oh my God,” Lucy hissed, tripping over her own feet as she stumbled into the bedroom. “Shh, shh, _shh_!”

Wyatt practically fell into the room, dragging Flynn by the hand with him. “That was fucking awesome,” he blurted out, far too loud still.

“Be quiet!” Lucy warned, putting a finger to his lips and giggling.

“You are so plastered,” Flynn said, kissing sloppily up Wyatt’s neck.

“You are too,” Lucy shot back, letting him yank her in and kiss her inner wrist, her cheek, between her eyes.

“I wanna…” Wyatt buried his nose in her hair, his hands sliding over her flapper dress, squeezing her hips. “In you, Luce, fuck you’re always so beautiful…”

“Both?” Lucy asked. “Mmmm both I like when you stretch me like that…”

“No, no,” Flynn shook his head, his body loose from the alcohol. “Not while we’re drunk, fuck, _moja draga_.”

“Croatian, you are drunk.”

“I had to watch you two swing dancing, it was like sex, you can’t blame me for having a drink… or five…”

“Could see you watching…” Wyatt turned and looked at Flynn. “Maybe you could fuck me?” He looked from Flynn to Lucy and back again. “Eenie meenie miney mo…”

Lucy laughed, bubbles in her blood, fireworks in her head. _Come quickly I’m tasting stars_ indeed.

“C’mere, c’mere.” She dragged Flynn over to the bed and pushed him down, undoing his pants and sliding his cock into her mouth. Neither man was going to last inside of her long enough for a proper fuck, not right now.

Flynn groaned, his head falling back. “Lucy, Lucy, love, _jebati_ —”

Oh he was so drunk. Lucy had to struggle not to smirk as she sank down around him, her tongue working the foreskin. She knew it was a sloppier blowjob, and she was lightheaded from it already, but she didn’t care. She was determined to get him off.

She could hear Wyatt trying to get undressed and mostly failing, and had to press her hands to Flynn’s hips to keep him from fucking up into her mouth and making her choke. There was no way she could deep throat while drunk.

Lucy pulled off, tonguing the slit of his cock, before ducking her head down to suck one and then the other of his balls into her mouth, sliding her tongue up the underside of his cock before sucking him down again.

Flynn grunted in warning, and then she felt him tightening, jerking in her mouth and then pouring down her throat. Lucy coughed and almost choked, pulling back, the rest smearing her mouth and cheek.

Wyatt crawled onto the bed, still half dressed. “I’m thinking… maybe we shouldn’t? Have stayed afterwards to celebrate? Maybe… maybe getting drunk was… I don’t know. I had a thought.”

Flynn turned his head, noticed that Wyatt’s waist was just about where his mouth was, and grabbed Wyatt’s hips, turning him and swallowing Wyatt down in one go.

Wyatt shouted and Lucy shushed him, still coughing. Flynn bobbed his head up and down, working Wyatt fast and hard, and Lucy could see his throat constricting as he swallowed multiple times, tightening his throat until Wyatt groaned long and loud and came like a shot.

Lucy sat up, tearing at Flynn and Wyatt’s clothes, at her own, still laughing. “Me, me, me,” she chanted. “Fuck, please—”

Wyatt scrambled up to her and they both fell on top of Flynn, who caught Lucy as she sprawled, her legs falling open for Wyatt to lick at her clit, rolling his tongue and sucking hard. Lucy clung to him, to Flynn, whoever, gasping loudly in a way she didn’t usually when she was sober, squirming until Flynn had to help Wyatt pin her down so that she was still enough for Wyatt to fuck her with his tongue.

“Oh fuck yes,” she blurted out. She was probably loud enough for everyone else in the bunker to hear but she didn’t care. “Fuck, yes, just like that please oh fucking _God_ —”

Wyatt twisted two fingers into her and she came, crying out, and they all collapsed in a heap.

Somehow, after dozing, they rearranged themselves, finishing getting undressed and sliding under the covers, limbs tangled, unable to tell where one ended and the other began.

 _We should all get drunk more often_ , Lucy thought.

And then they woke up the next morning with massive hangovers.


	42. Reversal

When Wyatt had first had the idea suggested to him, he’d needed a couple of days to think about it. It was a little… odd, to think about, but at the same time, it would combine two of his favorite things—Lucy in charge and getting fucked full—and in the end that had won out.

Lucy was soft and patient as always, settling in his lap and kissing him until Wyatt could feel all the tension draining out of him, her hands running slowly up and down his body, like she was reminding herself of all the angles and dips of his form.

“God, you feel good,” she breathed, kissing along the underside of his jaw and shivering pleasantly as Wyatt skimmed his fingers down her spine. He loved that there was no guessing, no thinking he was doing something right when he was doing it wrong. Lucy would always let him know what she wanted.

Lucy got one hand into his hair and the other pressed against his chest, tugging with the first and pushing with the other so that Wyatt went down onto the mattress. Lucy’s hands then moved down his sides to his thighs, pushing them apart and settling between them. Wyatt could already feel his breath coming in shallower, harsher, anticipation starting to build inside him.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Lucy murmured, getting her hands between them to slick her hand up and then stroke his cock slowly. “Breathe.”

Wyatt made himself relax. He knew how to do this, he’d been fucked by Flynn a few times by now, but having this done to him by Lucy was just different enough that it threw him off, made it new all over again.

Lucy hummed in approval, coating her fingers in more lube and moving them further down, circling around his rim a few times before pushing one finger in slowly.

Wyatt let out a little groan, pushing up into Lucy’s touch, clinging to the bedsheets. Lucy added a second finger, smirking at him as she twisted them slowly in and out. “Going to get you all nice and loose for me,” she said, sounding like the cat that got the cream.

She added a third finger, scissoring them a bit before curling them, finding the spot that made Wyatt feel like he was hooked up to jumper cables. Everything in him was shot through with electricity and then melted, the process repeating every time Lucy thrust her fingers inside of him until he was a shivering wreck.

Lucy pulled back, kissing him lightly on the lips. “So good,” she whispered. Wyatt’s eyes slid closed as he gathered his breath back. Lucy’s fingers were smaller than Flynn’s, thinner, but just as dexterous, just as knowing, the smaller size teasing him and putting him on edge, not filling him up in the way that he needed, making him even more desperate.

He heard her putting on the strap on but was still worried about staying relaxed, so he didn’t bother watching. It wasn’t until he felt Lucy settle between his legs again, her hand smoothing over his cheek, that he opened his eyes.

“You ready?” she asked, double checking as always.

Wyatt nodded. “Yes.” Lucy liked verbal responses.

“Good.” Lucy pushed his thighs apart again, and then started to slide in.

Wyatt choked for a moment, the way he almost always did when this happened. It felt—well it didn’t feel exactly like Flynn because a dildo wasn’t real, it wasn’t an actual body part—but it stretched and filled him in the same way. He shuddered, taking it in, feeling greedy, wanting Lucy to fuck him until he couldn’t see straight anymore.

“I love how you get desperate like this,” Lucy said, her voice sweet and praising. “You want it so badly, I know.”

She thrust shallowly a few times, figuring out the angle, humming in pleasure when she got it just right and Wyatt jerked, his mouth falling open, pleasure tingling through him. “We’re going to try something… a little new,” Lucy added.

She moved her hand down, and pressed something.

Wyatt’s entire body seized up in pleasure as vibrations shot through him. Lucy moaned as well, her clit clearly being stimulated. “Oh, fuck yes.” She grinned down at him. “You still good?”

“Fuck,” Wyatt managed to spit out. Holy shit, that was—oh fuck—

Lucy’s eyes narrowed in pleasure, like a cat’s. “Hold on for me, sweetheart. I’m not letting this end too soon.”

She started to thrust again, the vibrations not stopping. Wyatt panted helplessly, grabbing onto the bed, onto Lucy, trying to anchor himself. Oh, God, she was hitting his prostate every time and he couldn’t—fuck it was too much—

“Lucy, please.” He tried not to beg too soon, because he liked pushing his limits and liked seeing how long he could go before he snapped but Jesus _Christ_.

“Not yet,” Lucy ordered, her voice taking on that warning edge.

Wyatt shuddered and twisted helplessly underneath her until Lucy grabbed his hands, pressing them down into the mattress, settling her weight more on top of him. She didn’t weigh nearly as much as Flynn but it was enough to help keep Wyatt still and he whimpered, desperate to come.

“Fuck, please, Lucy, please, please please—”

Lucy’s eyes were closed, her mouth open and slack as she chased her own high, but she managed to pull herself together enough to order, “No.”

Wyatt closed his eyes, a whine sliding out of his throat. He wanted to be good, he’d be good, he couldn’t do it until she said but oh God he was so close it was building in the back of his throat and between his legs oh fuck God please Lucy—

Lucy shuddered, coming, and her eyes opened. “Go ahead.”

Wyatt melted, coming hard, spurting all over his chest, everything in him narrowed down to those thrusting vibrations inside of him. He was babbling something, probably Lucy’s name, his muscles jerking helplessly.

“That’s it,” Lucy said, a little breathless from her orgasm. “You’re so sexy like this, oh my God, do you have any idea—”

He went limp, spent, shivering, sucking in great gulps of air.

“Oh fuck,” he croaked out.

Lucy pulled out, shutting off the vibrations and putting aside the strap on. She massaged Wyatt’s legs, kissing along his stomach. “That was so good, sweetheart. You were so good.”

“We gotta get… one of those things for Flynn,” Wyatt managed. Flynn fucking him like that—holy shit.

Lucy’s gaze flicked up to his and a slow, calculating smile spread up her face. “You know, it’s moments like these where I remember why I love you.”

“Fantastic,” Wyatt slurred. “Does this mean I can pass out now?”

Lucy laughed, but he was already falling asleep. “Go right ahead.”

He didn’t even hear her finish the sentence.


	43. Payback

Flynn was relaxing on the couch at around midnight when Wyatt walked up. “Lucy’s in bed,” Wyatt noted, plopping down next to him. “You coming?”

“I want to finish this chapter first,” Flynn replied, indicating the book. They’d all been trying to read up more on history, in case Lucy was ever down for the count again. The Kennedy mission hadn’t been fun for several reasons, but one of them had definitely been the fact that he, Rufus, and Wyatt had been scrambling to figure out what Rittenhouse was doing.

Wyatt hummed, settling against Flynn’s side and resting his hand on Flynn’s upper thigh, his head on Flynn’s shoulder.

For a few moments, they just sat together. Flynn tried to savor it. They had so few moments like this, just to _be_. He was even wearing sweats, for crying out loud, rather than a suit.

And then Wyatt moved his hand, sliding it inward and upward, getting a grip on Flynn’s cock and massaging it.

Flynn cocked an eyebrow. “I should’ve known you wanted something.”

“Oh I don’t want anything,” Wyatt replied lightly. He kissed Flynn’s neck. “Lucy and I just had sex.”

His hand slid underneath Flynn’s sweats, wrapping around Flynn’s half-hard cock, stroking slowly. Flynn could still remember when Wyatt hadn’t had a clue what to do with the foreskin and had been intimidated about initiating anything, always sticking strictly to Flynn and Lucy’s instructions. Now he moved with confidence, toying with Flynn, teasing him, coaxing him into full hardness.

Flynn set aside his book and canted his hips a little, head falling back as Wyatt swung his leg over to straddle him, cocking his head and looking at Flynn almost like a dog that had seen something new and interesting in front of it.

“You remember last week when you blew me in the bathroom?”

…oh hell.

Wyatt gave him one of those little half-upturned smirks, the kind that made him look mischievous. “Consider this payback.”

Then he pushed himself down onto his knees, in between Flynn’s legs, and parted Flynn’s thighs, tugging down the sweatpants until he could nose up the skin to Flynn’s cock.

Flynn exhaled shakily as Wyatt just ran his mouth up and down his shaft, planting openmouthed kisses that didn’t do anything to relieve the heat that was steadily building in Flynn’s body.

“Did I ever tell you I love doing this?” Wyatt mentioned, darting out his tongue to lap up and down the shaft, then turning and rubbing his cheek along Flynn’s thigh, biting down and sucking. “I love the way you order me around and make me get on my knees.”

Flynn made a _ungh_ sound in the back of his throat and Wyatt smirked.

“Thought you might like to know that,” Wyatt said, and then he tongued at the slit, making Flynn jolt, gasping as white-hot desire shot through him.

Wyatt sucked Flynn down slowly, bit by bit, getting further and further down each time until Flynn hit the back of his throat. Flynn groaned, threading his fingers through Wyatt’s hair. “Fuck…”

Wyatt pulled all the way off, licking a stripe up the underside, swirling his tongue around the head, then working his tongue under the foreskin. Flynn was starting to pant, clenching his hand around Wyatt’s hair, his legs trembling as the pressure and heat coiled tighter in him.

Wyatt planted openmouthed kisses again, before dipping down to mouth and suck at Flynn’s balls, and Flynn thought he might die just a little. “Jesus—Wyatt—”

Flynn knew, in the back of his mind, that if he got commanding, if he tightened his grip on Wyatt’s hair and ordered him to sit still while Flynn fucked his mouth, Wyatt would do it. But Wyatt was trying to be the tease for once, and that was just so endearing that Flynn couldn’t find it in himself to pull rank.

“God you feel good in my mouth,” Wyatt admitted. “Heavy and thick and making my jaw ache.”

He took Flynn in his mouth again, suiting the action to the word, only he sank all the way down until Flynn hit the back of his throat again, swallowing a few times to make it all tighter and constricting. Flynn thought he might lose his mind, burning up inside, so close to the edge, the tight coil about to snap.

Wyatt pulled off again and Flynn groaned. “This counts as cruel and unusual punishment,” he spat out.

“You blew me in public during a mission,” Wyatt replied, and then went back to sucking just on Flynn’s head, his tongue toying with the slit, taking Flynn’s balls and rolling them around in his hand before sucking at Flynn’s thighs again.

Jesus Christ he was so close. Just a few good pulls on his cock or if Wyatt would just suck him down properly—but Wyatt was avoiding it, not giving Flynn any of the pressure that he craved.

“ _Wyatt_ ,” Flynn hissed.

He looked up at Flynn through his lashes. “I could keep you like this for a while,” he pointed out. “Just keep teasing you… stop you when you’re getting close…”

He licked a long stripe up Flynn’s cock again. “But I also really, really like it when you come down my throat.”

Flynn’s chest seized up and he vaguely wondered if he was finally having that heart attack.

Wyatt stretched his mouth over his cock and took Flynn down as deep as he could, holding nothing back now, swallowing and sucking, sliding up and down. Flynn felt that coil go even tighter, burning through his entire being before it unraveled, his legs shaking, as he came hard down Wyatt’s throat. Wyatt didn’t let up, practiced enough to get most of it down without choking, although some did leak out the sides and slide down his chin, making him look even more debauched and making Flynn’s dick twitch, like it would do this all over again if he could find the energy just from that sight alone.

He slumped back against the couch, breathing heavily. “Fuck,” he admitted weakly.

Wyatt looked incredibly pleased with himself. “I’m going to guess that was good for you?”

Flynn heard the insecurity lurking underneath, the validation that Wyatt sought. Wyatt almost never did anything like this, and deep down, he probably still worried he hadn’t been good at it.

Flynn tugged on Wyatt’s hair until Wyatt pushed up, following, until Flynn could grab his arm and pull Wyatt up into his lap.

“That was amazing,” Flynn assured him, kissing Wyatt’s temple, “and feel free to repeat it at any time.”

Wyatt nuzzled into him, pliant and pleased. “Will you come to bed now?”

There was no way he could go back to reading his book after that. “Sure,” he said, laughing, wrapping his arms around Wyatt.

No harm in kissing his boyfriend a few more times first.


	44. Atonement

It had not been a good day.

He’d let Emma get the drop on him—Emma, get the fucking _drop_ on him—and Lucy had almost paid for it. Wyatt had been with Rufus, not anywhere near. It had all been on him. If Harriet Beecher Stowe hadn’t yanked Lucy out of the way…

Wyatt had sustained a wound while with Rufus, a knife to his forearm, and was in the medical room for the night under observation to check for infections. Another person he loved hurt and Flynn hadn’t been there.

But he’d _been_ there for Lucy, he’d been right there and he’d failed, he’d failed her…

Lucy was already sliding into pajamas as he entered the room. He’d showered and changed but he still felt—unclean, somehow. Like something dirty and dark that he’d thought was gone had resurged, stained his skin, reminded him: you will never truly deserve them.

She turned and smiled at him as he approached. “Hey.”

Just an inch to the left. She’d be dead. Cold and small and gone…

Flynn wasn’t aware of thinking that he should kiss her. All he knew was that suddenly he was, and he realized that was the right thing to do.

Lucy made a surprised stuttering noise into his mouth. Her hands rested on his upper arms and started to slide up to his shoulders. Flynn knew her well enough to know what she was planning, to know she’d start to take control and he couldn’t do that, he didn’t deserve to put himself into her hands, he didn’t deserve to take that pleasure—

He grabbed Lucy’s wrists and gently pulled them away. His skin burned where she touched him.

Lucy frowned into the kiss, her hands coming back to get under his shirt, but Flynn pulled them away again, rougher this time. Lucy tugged back, staring at him in confusion. “Garcia?”

He didn’t know what to say or how to say it, he just—he had to touch her, he had to make sure she was real, he had to do something to make up for how he’d failed—

He leaned in, kissing her again, his hands running up and down her sides, crowding her, pushing her back until she hit the bed and fell back. She tried to reach for him yet again, her soft hands framing his face and he batted them away, taking them and pressing them firmly onto the bed.

Lucy frowned at him. “Flynn.”

He kissed her every time she tried to ask him, to find out what was wrong. He didn’t to talk about it, he knew what was wrong, and after a few minutes she stopped asking. Her arms went limp, a sign that she would do as he said. She wouldn’t try to touch him.

Good. He shouldn’t be touched.

He kissed down her body, lifting the shirt off, almost yanking it off of her and then his mouth was back on her skin again, her warm, soft, supple skin. Her skin with the pulse thundering beneath it, her skin that bruised when he sucked hard on it. Her alive, alive, alive skin.

“Garcia,” she breathed as he pulled her pajama pants down and licked into her, got her good and wet. Her hands clenched in the bedsheets and he could tell she wanted to touch him but she didn’t, she kept still.

He didn’t tease, didn’t play it out—that was for when he was having fun, and this wasn’t about him, this was about her, worshipping her—and when Lucy tried to tell him to slow down he just shook his head.

“Flynn, you don’t—” Lucy let out a shuddering breath. “You don’t have to—fuck, you really—”

He didn’t have to, he knew that, but he wanted to. Needed to.

Lucy inhaled sharply as she came, her legs quivering. “O-okay,” she stuttered. She reached for him again. “C’mere, you—”

He pulled back. “No.”

Lucy stared up at him. “No?”

“I need…” He swallowed. Started again. “Just let me.”

Lucy looked at him for a long moment, and he had a feeling she was seeing things in him that even he couldn’t see. “Okay.”

He crawled back over her, kissing her, spreading her legs, his fingers diving into the slickness of her, rubbing until she was panting into his mouth, only sliding his fingers into her at the very end when she was whimpering his name. In her, he had to get in her—not for himself but because Lucy liked that, she needed that, he needed her to feel alive and fulfilled—and he added another finger, stretching her more.

She moaned so beautifully, her heartbeat under his hands, she was so alive and he’d almost lost her because he was too slow, he was too stupid, he’d let her slip through his fingers. The life she’d given him in trust, he’d dropped and it would have shattered had someone else not caught it.

He slid into her hard and he fucked her hard. He didn’t know any other way right now. It was what Lucy liked and somehow it was what he needed, he needed it deep and desperate and rough, fucking into her until Lucy was sobbing underneath him. She wasn’t saying words, somehow understanding that she couldn’t say anything that would be welcome, but the pitch of her cries was enough.

Feeling so intimately how alive she was—that was enough.

He came with gritted teeth, almost wishing he didn’t, feeling like he shouldn’t, Lucy’s third climax a choked cry in his ear.

As if giving her orgasms could make up for failing to protect her life.

“Oh, my darling.” Lucy’s hands at his face, his salt-wet face, drawing him to her. He tried to pull away but she didn’t let him this time, she tightened her hold and pressed him to her, legs wrapping around him, holding him tight.

She forgave him too easily.

Her hands roamed over his back, combing through his hair, her mouth dropping kisses to his temple as she held him. His heart was still racing, but hers was steady, so steady.

“Stop thinking you have to earn my forgiveness,” she whispered. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

He turned his face into her breast, staining her skin with the tears he couldn’t seem to stop shedding. He loved her, he loved her, he _loved_ her. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t be the reason she was lost.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Lucy repeated, stroking through his hair. “Darling, there’s nothing to forgive.”

He wasn’t sure if he believed her, but it warmed him anyway.

Lucy pressed her face to his hair, her fingers smoothing across his cheek. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice thick. “You don’t have to do this to yourself, I love you.”

But that was just the thing—she loved him.

And he’d failed her.


	45. Delta Force

T-3 Days

 

“No,” Wyatt said. “No, no n—do you have any idea how disrespectful this is? To the uniform, to the men who’ve died, to—do neither of you feel any sense of—guilt, of propriety, of…”

His voice died away as it quickly became clear that neither Lucy nor Flynn cared one bit about ‘disrespect’. Instead they both looked at one another, then looked at him, then back to one another.

“Yeah, nope, I’m not really feeling any guilt,” Flynn said. “You?”

“Nah,” Lucy replied. “Not really.”

They looked at him with twin smiles of false innocence.

Wyatt groaned. “I’m going to regret every moment of this.”

 

* * *

 

T-2 Days

 

“I still say that if any of my old buddies find out they’re going to hang, draw, and quarter me,” Wyatt grumbled.

Lucy sighed. “Sweetheart, your old buddies have probably been fucked in their uniform a dozen times over by now. I think they’re more likely to buy you a beer.”

 

* * *

 

T-1 Day

 

“Planning to enjoy your day off, Agent Christopher?” Wyatt asked.

Denise arched an eyebrow at him. “Yes. I am. We’re having a beach day.”

“Great.” Wyatt grinned. “Tell Michelle happy birthday for us.”

Denise’s eyes narrowed. “You know, you’re the fourth person to tell me that.”

“What? We can’t be happy for your wife’s birthday?”

“Let’s just say I’m surprised you all are remembering it when Lucy managed to literally forget her own birthday and Rufus was panicking last week because he couldn’t remember what day his anniversary with Jiya was.”

“Maybe we’re just all so eager to show our appreciation of you,” Wyatt hazarded. “After, you know, almost—well. Yeah. That.”

Denise hummed but didn’t seem convinced. “All right. Let me know if the Mothership jumps. Otherwise, you’re all on your own.”

The moment she was gone, Mason dove for the computer table where Jiya was, hastily booking a flight. “There is a jazz concert in Paris that I _have_ to attend. Don’t worry, I still have some friends who are distinctly not Rittenhouse, I’ll be perfectly safe. See you all in a day or so!”

Once he was gone, Rufus and Jiya looked at Wyatt. “I suppose you three have something horribly disgusting and sexual planned now that Mom and Dad are away,” Rufus said, deadpan.

Wyatt was pretty sure he was blushing redder than the emergency lights. “Uh…”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Rufus sighed. “Jiya, my love, what do you say we take a trip to Hollywood say, a year after we went before and I can introduce you to Hedy?”

“Hell. Yes.”

Wyatt breathed a sigh of relief. The bunker was going to be theirs alone.

When the cat’s away and all of that…

 

* * *

 

T-0

 

Wyatt breathed very carefully.

Mentally, he was in a bit of a weird spot.

He wasn’t an actor, as anyone who’d seen him try to lie on the spot during their missions could attest. But he couldn’t just go into this with the mindset he usually had during a real, actual shoot-and-destroy. Those times his mind sort of checked out, operated on a different level, everything focused in on fight, destroy, fight, destroy.

It was kind of disturbing when he thought about it.

But if he went into that total mindset, of course, well… look, Hollywood and porn and whoever else could say otherwise all they wanted but no guy on a goddamn actual mission infiltrating a bunker was going to just drop everything for a pretty girl or guy. People didn’t register as human to you anymore. There were targets, assets, and enemies. That was all.

So no, he couldn’t just jump into this with his actual soldier mindset.

But if he thought too much about what he was doing he was going to just start laughing out of sheer embarrassment and die.

Hence, the weird spot.

 _Just think of it like a mission, Logan,_ he told himself. _The mission is to make Garcia and Lucy have to actually work for it._

Instead of, you know, Flynn winking at him or Lucy batting her eyes at him, which was usually all it took for Wyatt to go from zero to _yes sir/ma’am I’ll give you whatever you damn well please_.

Okay. Mission, make his partners actually work to fuck him for once.

He doublechecked the gun. Empty. Still had to treat it like it was loaded—that was the first thing he’d learned in weapons training. “Every gun is loaded.” He could still hear the sergeant’s voice in his head, saying that, whenever he picked up a gun.

Okay. Weapons were unloaded, clips emptied, safeties on, etc. He actually didn’t have on quite as much gear as he normally did (it was a bitch to take them all on and off and Lucy was not known for her patience in the bedroom). He was as ready as he was ever going to be.

He opened the bunker from the outside by hacking in with one of Jiya’s devices rather than swiping his keycard, triggering the silent alarm. That would be the cue to Flynn and Lucy that he’d entered and they should get ready.

He’d told them not to tell him where they’d be in the bunker. He needed a bit of an element of surprise to this or he’d never be able to stay in the moment.

Oh, wait, needed to make sure his camera wasn’t actually on.

Phew. That would’ve been awkward.

Okay. If this was a bunker he was actually infiltrating and didn’t know anything about, he’d assume that everyone was in the common area. He’d want to hit that last, eliminating possible stragglers in the other rooms and getting a better understanding of what was in each room before diving right into the hornets’ nest.

Wyatt checked the first room, the one he knew to actually be Rufus and Jiya’s. Nothing in there, although he wasn’t surprised—neither Lucy nor Flynn was suicidal enough to risk shenanigans in Rufus and Jiya’s domain. Rufus might just complain about it for a week but Jiya would literally kill them with a rusty spoon.

Next was Flynn’s old room, now used for storage.

Nothing.

“Clear,” Wyatt said to himself automatically.

The next room, Mason’s, was slightly ajar.

Now, that could have just been because Mason was literally sprinting out of the bunker to get to his flight on time, or…

Wyatt triple-checked that his guns weren’t loaded because he was a paranoid sonofabitch and not about to shoot either of his spouses, even accidentally.

Then he opened the door.

 

* * *

 

Lucy bit her lip, watching from the bed as Wyatt eased open the door. Ever since she and Flynn had seen the video of Wyatt infiltrating the Rittenhouse HQ in his Delta Force gear, they’d wanted to do something like this.

He looked hot as fuck. Five feet eleven inches of badass, all wrapped up in a very pretty package.

Lucy wouldn’t have called herself an actress once upon a time, but after lying so often on missions, she liked to think she’d gotten a hang for it. Even if she’d never win an award.

She went back to kissing Flynn like she had all the time left in the world.

Mason was going to kill them if he ever found out she and Flynn had made out on his bed but what Mason didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right?

She knew the moment Wyatt saw them because she heard his feet stumble to a halt. Then he cleared his throat.

Lucy pulled back as if startled. “Oh.”

Flynn did a pretty damn good job of looking startled too. He reached for the bedside drawer, as if for a gun—which wasn’t there anyway—but that movement was enough to kick in Wyatt’s instincts. He trained his unloaded gun on Flynn. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Oh, fuck yes. Lucy had to work hard to keep herself from grinning.

“Please don’t,” she pleaded, batting her eyelashes just a bit for good measure.

Wyatt gave what looked like a long-suffering sigh. “Look, we can pretend I didn’t see you, just—clear out, all right?”

Lucy tilted her head, as if just recognizing how very pretty he was. “Is it just you?”

“Um…” Wyatt looked wrongfooted. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“Well, it is…” Lucy slid off Flynn and got to her feet. “…if you’ve got teammates who might be looking for you. I’d hate for someone to come in and interrupt us.”

“Interrupt us?”

“From convincing you to switch sides.” Lucy flashed him a sweet smile.

“It pays better,” Flynn added.

Wyatt just barely managed to hold in his snort of laughter. “Why would I switch sides?”

“Better looking coworkers?” Lucy suggested.

“Appreciation?” Flynn said. His gaze dragged, hot and slow, over Wyatt’s form. “I can think of a few damn good uses for you.”

“You got a compelling argument?” Wyatt asked, still sounding not so convinced.

Flynn walked over, took Wyatt’s face in his hands, and planted one on him.

Wyatt immediately went pliant, pressing up into Flynn, instinct and habit overriding any plans Wyatt might have had. When Flynn pulled back a minute or so later, Wyatt looked like someone had given him a shot and then smacked him in the back of the head.

“…I’ll say that was compelling,” he managed to choke out.

Lucy sauntered up to him, not even bothering with subtlety—she just slid her hand down to cup him through his pants, squeezing and then starting to rub in a slow concentric circle. “There’s so much fun we could have together.”

Flynn took the gun from Wyatt’s hand—Wyatt didn’t even seem to notice since it gave Lucy the chance to press herself up against him, kissing the corner of his mouth. “We’ll make it _very_ worth your while.”

Wyatt drew in a shaky breath. Lucy smirked, keeping up the motions of her hand but nothing more, teasing. Flynn seemed to decide to take the last of Wyatt’s hesitation and snap it in half, because he used two fingers to turn Wyatt’s face towards him, brushing his nose against Wyatt’s, then their mouths together, then flicking his tongue against the seam of Wyatt’s mouth.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Wyatt whispered empathetically.

Then he lunged forward and kissed Flynn.

Lucy laughed, starting right in on the insane amount of buckles and snaps that kept this outfit together. She got the vest off, then the gloves, and then the helmet.

Wyatt pulled back from Flynn, gasping for breath, and Lucy let Flynn take care of undoing Wyatt’s pants while she took her turn kissing him.

“Oh, we’re going to ruin you,” she whispered gleefully, dropping little kisses all over his mouth. “Going to mess you right up.”

Wyatt shuddered, and Lucy saw that Flynn had gotten his hand down Wyatt’s pants. She felt heat pooling between her legs, her underwear getting damp as she watched Flynn’s hand working up and down underneath the fabric, getting Wyatt hard and making him squirm.

She got up on her tiptoes to whisper in Flynn’s ear. “Keep him as dressed as possible.”

This had been a fantastic idea.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt thought he might fall over. He was hot under the collar, literally, the outfit confining him and making everything feel so much more, somehow, making him squirm. He knew he’d probably given in far too easily but he was just glad the thinking part of this was over—now he could just give in and let Lucy and Flynn do whatever they pleased.

To his surprise, Flynn and Lucy didn’t seem inclined to get him more undressed than he already was, their hands roaming under his clothes instead.

They stumbled a bit down the hallway, heading to their bedroom, shedding Flynn’s and Lucy’s clothes along the way. Lucy dropped the bits of Wyatt’s gear that she deigned to take off him somewhere in the hallway as well. He didn’t see where they dropped, but Flynn’s tongue was in his mouth and Lucy’s hands were down his pants and so he found that he didn’t care.

Lucy took over kissing him, shoving him back down onto the bed and straddling him, grinding against him to show him how wet she was as Flynn went to the bedside drawer. Wyatt found himself yanked to his feet again, pressed against Flynn, who wrapped an arm around his waist and then slid his hand down Wyatt’s pants.

Wyatt groaned, clutching at Flynn, feeling a slick finger circling his entrance. He pushed back into it, whining a little when Flynn just kept teasing him.

“Mmm, patience,” Flynn murmured. “We’ll take care of you.”

“So eager,” Lucy said. Her voice was breathy and Wyatt had no doubt that if he turned around he’d find her touching herself. “What do you think, hmm? Flynn? So many things we can do…”

Flynn slipped his finger inside and Wyatt had to drop his head down onto Flynn’s shoulder, panting and squirming back into the touch.

Suddenly he was spun around, Lucy catching his hands and pulling him to her, Flynn shoving his pants down and putting a firm hand between Wyatt’s shoulder blades and pushing him down until he bent over, braced to hover over Lucy but with Flynn standing just behind him, looming.

Lucy took his face in her hands, kissing all over his face, down his neck, just below his ear, his throat, dodging him when he tried to kiss her on the mouth. Flynn’s hands slid down his back to his ass, and then without warning there was a light smack to his ass.

Wyatt jerked and a tiny moan escaped him before he could cut it off. He felt Lucy grin against his cheek, and heard Flynn’s delighted chuckle.

“We knew you’d like that,” Lucy whispered in his ear.

Flynn spanked him again and Wyatt let himself moan this time, his vision blurring.

“Once more,” Lucy instructed Flynn. Wyatt shuddered and let out another groan as Flynn spanked him a final time before he kissed the top of Wyatt’s spine and began to slowly kiss his way down.

Wyatt thought he knew where Flynn was headed and the anticipation made him shake, Lucy laughing and sliding her hands under his shirt, raking her nails down his chest, catching on his nipples and causing an extra shot of pleasure to make his cock jerk, slick precome sliding down the head.

Lucy didn’t waste a second with that, wrapping her hand around him and stroking slowly, loosely, teasing. Flynn reached Wyatt’s tailbone and as Wyatt had suspected kept going, licking around Wyatt’s hole and then twisting in and out, lapping and corkscrewing until Wyatt could feel his spine falling apart bit by bit.

“Wyatt,” Lucy said softly. “Look at me.”

He hadn’t even realized that he’d closed his eyes. He forced them to open, staring at Lucy. She took his chin in her hand and tilted his head down, then let go, making him watch as she stroked his cock with one hand and fingered herself with the other.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Flynn hummed, pulling back, and Wyatt barely registered the sound of the lube uncapping before he felt Flynn’s long, thick fingers sliding into him.

“Oh fuck,” he spat.

Lucy laughed like velvet. “We’ve wanted to do this for ages, you’ve got to let us have our fun.” She sat up, flicking her tongue at his ear. “See how much fun it is, being bad?”

Flynn’s fingers slid out of him, and then Wyatt felt Flynn’s cock nudging in their place.

“In me,” Lucy whispered, combing her fingers through Wyatt’s hair, her mouth right at his ear. “Get in me, soldier boy.”

He understood what they were doing and the room spun. Oh, God, he wasn’t going to last long. “Yes ma’am,” he replied, shifting so that he could get the right angle to slide inside her.

Lucy’s head fell back and he took the opportunity to lick at her pulse point before latching on and sucking, using that hint of teeth that made Lucy sigh happily and press into the touch. He started moving slow but steady, wanting to work up to speed, to get rough and fast at the end but beginning with deep, hard strokes.

Flynn’s hands clasped his hips, and then he was sliding into Wyatt, slow but unrelenting. Wyatt bit down a little harder on Lucy inadvertently, but she just squirmed happily and gave a tiny mewl of pleasure. Wyatt kept moving, and after a minute of letting him adjust, he felt Flynn starting to move as well, timing his thrusts to move forward when Wyatt moved back.

Wyatt could feel his mind sliding away like water down a hill. He didn’t know which was better, thrusting forward into Lucy’s slick tight heat or thrusting back into Flynn’s thick, hard cock, especially when Flynn got the angle right and Wyatt could feel that sparking feeling run down from between his legs all the way down to his toes.

It was heat and pressure and pleasure from both ends, back and forth and back and forth until he couldn’t feel anything else, didn’t know anything else, just driving mindlessly forward towards the pit he knew he was about to fall into.

Lucy was clinging to him, her nails scoring his chest and his back even through the fabric, her mouth hungry and clinging to his skin as she kissed him everywhere she could reach, her hips twisting into his thrusts. Flynn’s mouth was hot on the back of Wyatt’s neck, hitting that perfect spot unerringly, his hands digging into Wyatt’s hips and keeping him from escaping the sensations for even a second.

They were using him, wringing their own pleasure from him, and Wyatt was just being dragged along for the ride—but what a ride, assaulted in every way, his lungs and legs burning as he struggled not to give into the pleasure too soon.

Flynn’s thrusts became erratic, speeding up, and Wyatt inhaled sharply as Flynn bit down on the back of his neck and fucked into him uncontrollably, shoving himself all the way in and coming, giving Wyatt that debauched feeling.

It was enough to push him right to the edge. Lucy writhed uncontrollably under him, actively chasing her climax, her breath loud in his ear. Flynn’s come was sliding down the inside of Wyatt’s thighs, and Lucy was clenching around him, and then oh _fuck_ Flynn was licking at the spot where he’d bit Wyatt and spanked him a final time and _Jesus_ —

He came and that set Lucy off, biting on his ear and becoming impossibly tight around him, making him shudder through the last bit of his orgasm.

He tried to speak but the only thing that came out was a kind of croak.

“Mmmm.” Lucy reached up and cupped his cheek as Flynn held him up and kept him from falling. “So very sexy.”

Wyatt slumped to the side, guided by Flynn, who then collapsed on Wyatt’s other side. “I’ve changed my mind,” Wyatt panted. “You can fuck me in this any time you like.”

“I knew we’d convince you,” Flynn said, sounding far too smug and energetic for someone who’d just come.

“Yeah, yeah, you guys were right, rub it in… but on one condition.”

“Oh?” Lucy asked, turning her head to look at him.

“You guys are helping me out of this, I don’t think I can move.”

Lucy laughed as Flynn mock-groaned. “Work, work, work, work, work.”

“Oh yeah, I’m so bossy. Always giving orders.”

“Watch it, Master Sergeant, I’ll make you drop and give me…”

“Go on. Give you what?”

“I think you know what.”

“Boys, boys, boys.”

 

* * *

 

T+1 Day

 

“So,” Mason said, stepping around the tactical vest and Lucy’s nightgown on the floor, staring at Lucy, Wyatt, and Flynn as they stood in their towels, fresh from the shower. “You don’t tell about my jetting off to Paris, and I won’t tell about whatever insane debauchery you three got up to. Fair?”

“Fair.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Our lips are sealed.”


	46. Perception

Lucy stared at herself in the mirror.

Sometimes she looked at herself and all she saw was the failure. The pushover. The girl who got taken advantage of by her coworkers, passed over for promotions, who was too smart or too sweet or too whatever the latest excuse by the latest boyfriend as for breaking up with her. She wasn’t as smart as her mom, as calculating as Emma, as brave as Amy. She couldn’t do it. She had the team depending on her and she couldn’t be the leader that they needed, deserved.

Being with Rittenhouse had been awful and she was never going to do that again. Her own mother tried to gaslight her and basically brainwash her.

But in Rittenhouse, she’d been good enough simply by virtue of her bloodline. And there’d been an odd sort of relief in that, because God knew Nicholas had been a wet blanket but everyone had listened to him because he was the Rittenhouse Heir. It had been the same with her.

Here, she was just Lucy. And she didn’t know if Just Lucy was enough.

Flynn came up behind her, fresh from the shower, his t shirt sticking to him a little because he’d been impatient about drying off, as usual. He kissed the top of her head, his hands wrapping around her middle and squeezing gently as he held her. Lucy watched him in the mirror. He looked so content.

She hated herself for thinking this but would he have ever come to love her if not for the journal? If not for how she’d come to him in his hour of greatest need? If they’d met in a coffeeshop, or as coworkers, would he still be here, holding her and burying his nose into her hair, like she was all that kept him anchored?

“I can hear your mind racing,” Flynn said.

Lucy pressed back against him. “It’s nothing.”

He opened his eyes, his gaze meeting hers in the mirror. “It’s something.”

Lucy exhaled shakily. “Really, it’s nothing. We should go to bed.”

Flynn’s grip tightened on her slightly. “Something has you upset.”

Lucy gave up and sagged against him. “It’s just—” She hated the heat she could feel in her eyes. “Am I enough? Really? Denise keeps saying I’m the leader, I’m in charge, you all defer to me but—but I’m just—”

“You’re not ‘just’ anything.”

“Yes, I am,” Lucy replied, her voice growing sharp. “We’re all just someone at the end of the day, Garcia.”

“Maybe to you, you are. Not to me.” He kissed her temple, her cheekbone, under her jaw. “You’re Lucy, you could never be ‘just’ anything.”

She sighed as she felt his hand sliding up her thigh, underneath the oversized shirt she tended to wear as a nightgown. “Look in the mirror,” Flynn told her quietly. It was a suggestion. Flynn never ordered her to do anything, he only gave her an option.

Lucy looked in the mirror.

“Do you know what I thought when I first saw you?”

He was rubbing his hand along her thigh, teasing her.

“I thought… dear God, she’s beautiful.”

His other hand tugged her head back using her hair, then stroked down her throat to her breast, rolling the nipple through the thin cotton of her shirt. Lucy forced herself to keep her eyes open, to watch as her skin flushed and as her pupils dilated, her mouth falling open as he continued to touch her.

“I don’t think you know what happens when you walk into a room,” Flynn rumbled, his voice vibrating in his chest and against her back. “How all eyes turn to you. Men. Women. They all need to have a look because you just light up the space.”

His fingers slid through her slick folds, his thumb finding her clit, and Lucy inhaled sharply.

“Every person we talk to on our missions walks away in love with you and it’s not just because of how you look. It’s because you listen to them. You’re so good at listening to people, at caring about them and their worries and joys and troubles.”

Flynn pulled back so that he could bend over and drop a kiss to her neck, then push the fabric of her shirt aside and press another one to her shoulder before straightening up again and tugging on her hair until her head was craned back and he could slide his tongue into her mouth, draw her tongue back into his, twisting, sliding, just as one of his fingers started to slide into her.

“You’re so damn smart,” he whispered against her lips, letting her head fall back against him. “You amaze everyone we meet and you never let the stupid, blockheaded people around you get the best of you. You stand up for others and you fight for what you know to be right. You never stop fighting. You’re always thinking about others.”

He slid a second finger into her, sliding the pads along that spot that made her shiver in pleasure. “You’re intelligent and formidable and funny and gorgeous but you have such a good heart, Lucy. That’s why everyone follows you, why everyone falls in love with you. You’re the kind of person we’d die for.”

She tried to close her eyes, to turn her head away, tears starting to leak out because how could she possibly be loved so much, even by just one man, never mind by more, but Flynn caught her chin in his hand and turned her face back to the mirror.

“Look at yourself,” he whispered, his thumb rubbing exquisite little patterns into her clit, making her clutch at him and her breath hitch. “You’re more than enough, just as you are, because you’re Lucy, and I know I’m a little more biased than most but I don’t imagine what I see. You’re amazing. And I will say it, every day, until you believe it, because it’s like I can’t even breathe with all the things I see in you that give me a reason to love you.”

She came as the tears slid free, sagging in his arms, his name sliding out of her on a sigh.

“I love you,” Flynn repeated. He cupped her face gently in his hands and scattered kisses all over. “You see a girl in that mirror. I see the woman who has been my salvation, and the salvation of so many others.”

Lucy clung to him, kissing him back with everything in her, her heart feeling like a bucket overflowing with all the things she felt. She wanted so badly to be worthy of the things he said about her. And maybe it was just the tingling aftershocks of her orgasm but in Flynn’s arms, she almost believed it.

She almost believed she was, could be, that woman.


	47. Punishment

Sometimes, Wyatt was a brat.

Like the time he and Flynn had been making out in the kitchen before anyone else was awake and Flynn had told him to get on his knees and Wyatt had said, “fuckin’ make me.”

Flynn’s answer had been to slide his hand into Wyatt’s pants, rubbing him through his underwear, and whispering in his ear, “So you don’t want to get me nice and hard so I can fuck you blind? That’s a new one.”

Wyatt had gotten to his knees pretty fast after that.

Or there was the time Lucy had told him to hold still and he hadn’t and she’d arched her eyebrow and asked if he was angling for a spanking and he’d replied, “maybe.”

So yeah, it wasn’t like Flynn and Lucy didn’t have their suspicions, but it wasn’t until Wyatt got plastered (not just tipsy, no matter what Wyatt tried to claim during and later) at the sex party and told Flynn straight up that he wanted to be punished that the puzzle pieces finished clicking into place.

“I suppose you just wanted us to instinctively figure it out?” Flynn asked, rolling his eyes.

They were all sprawled out in bed, exhausted from a mission and just kind of shooting the breeze because none of them felt like moving for God or money.

Also Rufus was singing in the shower again and so they all had to wait a while before they’d get their turn to wash 16th century grime off of themselves.

“I thought I was being pretty obvious.”

“Words, Wyatt,” Lucy mumbled. Her feet were in Flynn’s lap so he could massage them but her head was resting on Wyatt’s stomach so he could pet her hair.

It was possible they spoiled her just a tiny bit.

“Use your words, they’re important,” Lucy finished. “We’ve talked about this. Ask for what you want.”

Wyatt sighed, but he knew she was right.

“I want you guys to punish me. I like doing what you guys say and I like being good, but sometimes I just—I want to push, I want to disobey and get punished for it.”

“Three months after the party,” Flynn said dryly. “He’s getting faster.”

Wyatt flipped him off. Flynn grabbed Wyatt’s hand and kissed the knuckles, smirking at him.

“Is there any particular way you’d like to do it?” Lucy asked.

Wyatt could feel his face heating up. He’d told Flynn a couple of ways he’d like to be punished. “Ah… making me come, even when I don’t want to. Making me come more times than I can handle.”

Lucy hummed in appreciation and looked up through her lashes at Flynn. “What do you think?”

Flynn still had Wyatt’s hand and was now running his thumb idly over the knuckles. “I’m not against the idea. If we have ground rules in place.”

Lucy’s smile was wicked. “Insane how talking about what you want actually gets you what you want, huh?”

Wyatt groaned. “Yes, Lucy.”

She turned to take his hand, which was still petting through her hair, and kiss his palm. “Mmm, now let’s see if Rufus is finished belting out Beyoncé’s greatest hits and we can hop in.”

 

* * *

 

Of course as much as Wyatt wanted to, and might have if it had been entirely up to him, they couldn’t just go from zero to one hundred.

They started out small—like spanking until he was grinding into the mattress, or having to delay his orgasm an extra two, five, ten minutes. One time he hadn’t stopped touching himself when Lucy told him to, so she’d set a timer and blew him for twenty minutes—and he wasn’t allowed to come until the timer went out.

The forced orgasms, they just started with one. One extra, after Flynn had fucked him, sliding the vibrating dildo in and leaving in there until Wyatt writhed his way to a second orgasm, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. Lucy and Flynn had been careful with this—they kept double checking, making sure Wyatt would and could safeword out, that pain hadn’t taken over, that they weren’t asking for too much too quickly.

Wyatt had been struggling to hold in his arousal all day though, because today they were going for multiple.

Punishments were discussed long beforehand, although Wyatt didn’t know what punishment would be used when, he just knew the pre-approved list and that it would be one of those. This time was a little different, because Lucy had wanted him mentally prepared ahead of time, and so they could agree on the number of orgasms he’d be forced to have.

He was also well aware of what he’d done to earn this: he’d come far too early a few days ago, orgasming only a minute or two after Lucy had started stroking him.

It wasn’t like the few times where he’d been too pent up and Lucy apologized, saying she’d asked for too much from him when he’d clearly been too far gone to follow that order. He’d deliberately focused in, letting himself come even though he’d known he could hold on for a lot longer.

So he was being punished.

He knew what was coming, and his skin thrilled, his stomach twisting in a good way, an anticipatory way, as he entered the bedroom and followed Flynn’s instruction to lock it behind him.

Flynn was the first one to kiss him, deep in that way where he sealed his mouth over Wyatt’s and slid his tongue in like he owned him. Wyatt pushed into the kiss, grabbing at Flynn’s clothes, fighting him a little for dominance.

Flynn tightened his grip and then slammed Wyatt back against the wall, knocking the wind out of him, and then bit down hard on Wyatt’s lip. “That’s what I’m talking about,” he said, his mild tone a sharp contrast to the firm, almost punishing way he held Wyatt against the wall, his hips shifting minutely against Wyatt to tease him. “Somebody’s in a rebellious mood lately.”

“So impatient,” Lucy said, walking up to him and drawing her finger up Wyatt’s arm. “You’ve been very disobedient lately. Do you know how?”

“No,” Wyatt shot back, just to be contrary.

Flynn got his hand between Wyatt’s legs and squeezed. Wyatt choked, shuddering, unable to hide in his reaction. “You know how,” Flynn murmured, running his mouth up Wyatt’s neck. “Don’t you?”

He squeezed again and Wyatt moaned. “Y-yes.”

“See? You can be cooperative,” Lucy praised.

“Shocking,” Flynn said dryly.

Wyatt glared at him. Flynn just winked.

“How were you disobedient?”

“I came before I was allowed to,” Wyatt answered.

Lucy hummed. “Exactly. Now get on the bed.”

Flynn stepped back, just enough that he could strip Wyatt of his shirt and jeans as Wyatt was led to the bed. Flynn kissed him again, pressing Wyatt down into the mattress and then shifting without warning, taking all of his body heat and pressure away and just holding Wyatt down by the wrists.

Lucy came over and sat down by Wyatt’s side. “If you wanted to come multiple times, you could have just said. You didn’t have to be greedy.”

“What?”

“If you’re so desperate to orgasm…” Lucy shrugged nonchalantly. “Then we’ll just have to let you have what you want, won’t we? As many times as you’d like, since you’re so greedy.”

Wyatt strained against Flynn’s hands, just to test the hold. Flynn tightened his grip, even as his thumbs swiped soothingly over Wyatt’s inner wrists, letting him know it was okay.

“Hands stay there,” Lucy warned. “Above your head. Or I’ll make Flynn pin you down the whole time and we’ll add another orgasm to the tally. Understood?”

“Yes.”

Flynn let go, and Wyatt kept his hands where they were. Flynn moved out of the way, down near Wyatt’s hips, as Lucy came up and filled Wyatt’s field of vision.

“You know why we’re doing this, right, Wyatt?” Lucy asked, her fingers lightly caressing his cheek.

He swallowed, his throat already like sandpaper in anticipation. He wanted to squirm and forced himself to stay still. It was like when he’d first started doing the orgasm delaying with them, when his body knew he was finally getting the release he’d been craving and just the knowledge of what was going to happen had him hard and leaking.

He nodded, but Lucy shook her head. “Say it out loud. You know why we’re doing this?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I… I was bad,” he choked out. “I disobeyed an order.”

“Did you safeword?”

“No.”

“Did you need to safeword?”

“No.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Because I—I wanted to see what would happen.” _I wanted you to punish me like this._

“You wanted to push the limits?”

“Yes.”

Wyatt felt a hand around his cock and he jumped in surprise. It was Flynn, his hand slick with lube, stroking excruciatingly slowly.

Lucy shook her head. “Well, we set our rules for a reason. You disobey then we have to punish you. You understand?”

“Yes.”

Lucy rocked back onto her heels. “We’re going to fuck you. Every way we want to, in as many ways as we want to. You can safeword out at any time. Otherwise, punishment continues. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“And you understand this was a choice you made?”

“Yes.” He rolled his hips into Flynn’s hand, his throat clicking dryly.

“You should like this.” Lucy’s voice was light and teasing, but admonishing at the same time. “You don’t have to wait. You can come as soon as you’d like. You just have to keep doing it until we decide you’re done. You understand?”

“Yes—yes ma’am.”

Lucy smiled proudly at him. “Good.”

She pecked him on the lips and then pulled back. Flynn moved a little to the side, behind Lucy, his hand sliding between her legs to rub at her clit, his finger twisting into her. Lucy sighed in pleasure her head falling back.

Wyatt tried to keep his breathing slow and steady, but it was hard when he had to watch Lucy mewling, Flynn’s fingers fucking into her at just the right pace to get her ready without pushing her over the edge. Wyatt felt precome start to leak out and slide down his cock and he couldn’t help but wonder if he could come just from this, just from watching.

Even though she hadn’t explicitly said it, though, he knew that he wasn’t allowed to jack himself off to this. Lucy had said to keep his hands above his head and she’d made it clear that while he didn’t have to hold off on them, all of his orgasms tonight were to be given to him by Flynn and Lucy.

“Mmm, that’s good,” Lucy instructed, pulling away from Flynn. He slid his fingers out and Lucy swing her leg over Wyatt, straddling him. Flynn’s hand came back, seizing Wyatt’s wrists and pinning them down. His other hand trailed lightly up and down Wyatt’s chest, his arms, his sides, along his hipbone. Teasing.

Lucy sank down onto Wyatt in one hot, slick slide. His hips bucked up and he groaned. He’d expected her to draw it out longer, but that was the name of their other game, their usual wait-until-I-say game.

Tonight, she was twisting her hips viciously, riding up and down, clenching around him, determined to make him come as quickly as possible. Wyatt strained against the hold Flynn had on him, not really trying to get away but feeling the restraint of it, knowing that he was entirely in Flynn and Lucy’s care.

Lucy’s breath hitched as she rode him. “You need to know there are consequences for your behavior.” God, he was so close already. She was having no mercy tonight, her nails scratching at his lower stomach, his hips, her strong legs and core working to fuck him like her favorite toy.

“Yes, ma’am,” he managed to get out. His eyesight was blurring a little around the edges. He didn’t usually get it this fast when fucking Lucy. That was only when they were, say, on a mission or trying to squeeze in time before breakfast or something—when they had to go hard and fast before someone walked in on them. Usually it was slower, teasing, taking their time. His brain almost didn’t know what to do when Lucy using him like this, driving him towards the edge of climax with unrelenting force.

Lucy’s mouth was open now, and she was rubbing her clit, apparently lost in the sensations as well. Flynn brushed his nose against Wyatt’s cheek. “I can’t wait to fuck you,” he murmured. “It’s so hard to watch her do this and not come on the spot, isn’t it? You can, though. You can let go whenever you want. And then it’s my turn with you.” He kissed Wyatt’s upper jaw, just a little below his eye. “You’re going to sound so pretty begging. But you wanted this, didn’t you?”

Wyatt was panting, his chest flushed pink and heaving as Lucy gave a little gasp, shuddering around him. She was close, and he was close, and she looked so goddamn sexy like that just riding him and using him—

“You wanted us to force this out of you, until you’re begging us, until you don’t think you can handle it anymore.” Flynn’s mouth was right against his ear now, making him shiver almost as much as Lucy hot and tight around his cock did. “And you know we like giving you what you want.”

Wyatt whined and came hard, his hips shaking, emptying himself into Lucy. She kept moving, didn’t stop, even as he went soft in her and it started to become too much. A kind of agonized groan fell out of him as she kept going, keeping him inside as she touched herself, until Wyatt was halfway to hard again and his legs were seizing up a little. Fuck, fuck, it was really too much, he didn’t know if he was pushing into it or trying to get away from it, and then Lucy was coming with a pleased, choked-off moan.

She pushed herself up and off of him, smiling at him, her eyes hazy still with the high of orgasm. “One.”

Flynn pulled away and Lucy took his place, watching with dark, hungry eyes as Flynn spread Wyatt’s legs. “Flynn,” Wyatt choked out, the word turning into a wordless groan as Flynn ran his tongue up Wyatt’s cock, sending sparks flying underneath his skin. It was still oversensitive, he still couldn’t handle—but Flynn wouldn’t stop—

He heard the sound of the lube cap flipping open and had just enough time to register with a shudder what it meant before he felt Flynn’s fingers at his entrance, coaxing him open, sliding in and scissoring him open. Oh holy God, if Flynn fucked him there was no way he wouldn’t come, and it was still too soon, he’d just come, he’d only just, oh _fuck_.

Flynn added a third finger, twisting and scissoring expertly, glancing against Wyatt’s prostate every other stroke or so, until Wyatt was fully hard again despite the razor edge the pleasure gave him.

“You good?” Lucy asked him.

Wyatt moaned. He wanted—he needed to come, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready for it, if it would slap him in the face like a tidal wave and drag him under, drown him.

“That’s not an answer,” Lucy replied lightly.

“Yes,” Wyatt managed to slip out.

Lucy nodded at Flynn, and then his fingers were sliding out, replaced by his cock.

Wyatt lost his mind a little bit as Flynn started fucking him hard and fast, without patience or a chance for Wyatt to breathe. It was an assault, that thick, stretching feeling making him feel thin, pulled apart, his body writhing instinctively in response to every time Flynn hit his prostrate. He tried to beg, to say something, anything, but he couldn’t even force sound out.

“Slow down, just a bit,” Lucy ordered. She looked down at Wyatt. “You were saying something?”

“Oh, God,” Wyatt blurted out. Oh fuck, it was too much, it was too much it was _too much_ — “Please—”

“Shhh.” Lucy soothed him, kissing down the tendons of his neck. “Don’t you want to come? Hmm? You have to let us make you feel good.” She slid her hand down his chest, tweaking his nipples. Wyatt jolted, another _fuck_ spilling out of him. It felt like electricity was running up from his toes through his legs, making his thighs clamp down around Flynn’s cock and that only made him feel it _more_ oh fucking God…

“When you fight us that shows you don’t trust us, doesn’t it?”

“I—” Oh fuck, fuck, Flynn was hitting his prostate every time, dragging his cock across it slowly fuck fuck fuck— “I trust you, Luce…”

“Sure doesn’t seem like it when you disobey. Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes.” Oh fuck, yes.

“Then I guess you’ll have to trust us now as we remind you… all the ways we can make you come.”

She looked over at Flynn. “You can go faster now, handsome.”

Wyatt almost screamed as Flynn did just that, fucking into him hard and fast. Flynn’s hands were gripping his hips, keeping Wyatt from moving away, his entire body was taut and spread thin and he couldn’t stop the electricity rising inside him he couldn’t stop it…

He came, his vision whiting out, but Flynn wasn’t stopping. He was losing his rhythm, close and then coming as well, but just like Lucy he only waited to finish before he kept touching Wyatt. He pulled out and then slid his fingers right back in, curling them and hitting Wyatt’s prostate and oh dear fucking lord holy fuck.

“Two,” Lucy observed.

Wyatt’s hips twisted helplessly, his second orgasm still receding, his cock twitching like it was attached to Flynn’s fingers on a string, each thrust tugging on something deep inside of him and despite everything he felt himself starting to get hard again, even as his body couldn’t decide whether to push back into it or try and get away.

“Keep at it,” Lucy ordered Flynn softly. Wyatt sobbed and she ran her hand over his chest, soothing him.

“Lucy, Lucy, Lucy _please_.” It felt like that was all he knew how to say now. “I—I trust you, I know, I know you’ll make it good, I’ll be so good I promise—”

“Oh, sweetheart, I know. But we have to remind you who’s in control here.” She stroked his face, her gaze still soft and loving, searching him for a sign of real pain. “Who is in control, Wyatt? Hmm?”

Oh God. “Y-you.”

“Mmm, one more time for me, sweetheart.” She dragged her nail across his nipple and Wyatt moaned. “Who’s in control?”

“You.”

“That’s right. Very good. See how easy it is to be good? Hmm?” Lucy kissed him lightly on the jaw. “But we can’t stop here, can we? If we let you off easy what kind of precedent would that set? Hmm?”

She moved her hand further down, taking his cock in hand _oh holy God—_

Tears were stinging his eyes now. He honestly wasn’t sure if he could come again, torn between wanting it and not wanting it, his body overstimulated.

“Fuck, Lucy—Lucy please—”

Lucy pet his hair. “You wanted these rules,” she reminded him. “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Wyatt knew that if he wanted to safeword out, this was Lucy handing the chance to him on a silver platter. He could say the safeword at any time but she was giving him an opportunity. He could say it, and this whole thing would end. Flynn would stop touching him, and Lucy would stop, and they’d calm him down and pet him and praise him.

But he _had_ said he wanted this, and he’d agreed to the number of orgasms, and he wanted to reach that goal, he wanted to go all the way.

“Yes,” he croaked out. “Yes, this is what I wanted.”

“There’s my good boy,” Lucy praised.

She bent over and sucked at his neck, slowly working her way down to his chest, her tongue flicking over one of his nipples before she bit down softly. Wyatt really did sob that time, his body vibrating.

Lucy scraped her teeth across as she continued to stroke his cock and Flynn kept up his unrelenting pace, and Wyatt felt a bolt of searing pleasure-pain run through him as he came, feeling twisted and wrung dry.

Flynn pulled his fingers out and moved up to pin him down again as they switched once more. “Three,” Lucy counted.

Wyatt felt like a mess, like a rag doll that had been turned inside out and the stuffing spread around the room. There was come all over his chest, sweat everywhere else, Flynn’s come sliding out of him and bruises forming on his neck and chest.

But they’d agreed on four.

Lucy got between his legs, using all of her weight to pin down his thighs, and took his cock in her mouth.

It was a good thing Flynn was pinning down the rest of him because Wyatt jerked violently, his body almost leaving the mattress as he heaved, an instinctive reaction to the insane _toomuchtoomuchtoomuch_ feeling crowding up in his chest. Tears were sliding down the sides of his face now, and he couldn’t tell if he was crying out or soundless. Lucy’s mouth was hot and wet and tight, she was working him over so well, because she knew him so well by now, she knew just how to flick her tongue and how to deep throat him and oh fuck he was getting hard how _how_ he was so dry he couldn’t possibly he couldn’t possibly he could but he was and oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck please please please Lucy please—

Flynn had to clap a hand over his mouth. It felt like claws were scraping through his entire body, finding every bit of pleasure left in him and just dragging it out of him, exposing him, making him raw.

“Four,” Lucy whispered as she pulled back.

Wyatt somehow managed a kind of whimpering noise, although he wasn’t sure if his throat would be able to work properly for a while. Satisfied that Wyatt wasn’t going to scream again, Flynn removed his hand.

Unlike the sternness that lined his face before, now Flynn’s expression was all protective and soft, his hands rubbing slowly up and down Wyatt’s arms as Wyatt shivered uncontrollably.

Lucy crawled up to him, completely soft as well, none of her playfully punishing demeanor remaining. “That was so good. You were perfect, Wyatt, you were so good for us.”

He turned his face towards her, soaking up her sweet voice. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” she said, kissing him. “And you can sleep, and then we’ll make you dinner.”

Flynn cleared his throat.

“Garcia will make you dinner,” Lucy amended. “And I’ll give you a massage, does that sound good?”

Wyatt nodded. He drifted, in and out, as Flynn continued to check him for bruises and too-tight muscles and Lucy got a washcloth to clean them all up. He felt himself being turned onto his side, Flynn’s arms wrapping around him from behind, Flynn’s firm warmth at his back.

Lucy curled up in front of him, dropping his arms around her. He was too weak to properly hold her right now but she knew he’d want to have her in his arms when he woke up.

Flynn kissed idly up and down Wyatt’s neck and shoulder. “Beautiful,” he murmured softly.

“Next time,” Lucy mused, “We’ll see how you do with the vibrator.”

Wyatt was still extremely sensitive with vibrations, and he shivered a little at the idea of what that would feel like.

“I call dibs next time,” Flynn said.

Oh God. Flynn’s dirty talk undid him faster than Lucy’s. It occurred to Wyatt that they’d actually gone easy on him this time.

“But sleep for now,” Lucy decided. She kissed his nose. “You were perfect.”

Flynn’s arms tightened around him in agreement, and that was the last thing Wyatt felt before he fell asleep.


	48. Quickie

They were going to be in so much trouble if they got caught.

And not in the ‘Rittenhouse will kill us’ kind of way, but in an ‘our hosts will call the police to arrest us for sodomy’ kind of way.

But Jesus Christ, they had literally nothing to do but sit around and wait for their host’s dinner party where they could spring their trap for Emma and that was still hours away. Everything was in place. Rufus was literally down in the parlor learning how to play bridge because they had nothing else to do.

So really, Lucy felt she could be excused for making out with her husbands.

They couldn’t be bothered to deal with all of their damn clothes, so they were all mostly still dressed, but that only added to it, the confining feeling similar to when she was restrained with the cuffs or ropes, making her squirm.

Even better, when she squirmed since she was in Wyatt’s lap, it only made him groan into her mouth. She could feel him, hard and pressed right up against where she was wet and desperate, and when she ground down into him it rubbed her clit, making her shudder all over.

Flynn was behind her, his hands shoving up underneath her skirts, sliding over her thighs as he ground against her. It was all rushed, heady, desperate, wordless gasps and groans filling the air.

She felt Flynn’s fingers inching higher, until he could undo her underwear and rub at her clit. Lucy’s head fell back onto his shoulder and she bit darn hard on her lip to keep from moaning too loudly and alerting the servants as to what ‘Mr. and Mrs. Preston’ were getting up to with their ‘cousin’ in the spare sitting room.

Wyatt let out a little groan and Flynn kissed him to keep him quiet, the movement tipping Wyatt completely onto the floor on his back, forcing Lucy to brace against the rug to keep from falling. The change in angle meant Wyatt could thrust up into her harder, and she inhaled sharply, Flynn’s hands on her the only thing keeping her from sagging completely. It was right against her clit and Flynn’s fingers were still there and oh, oh, _oh_ …

She shuddered apart, hearing Wyatt’s choked noise as he came, pressing back against Flynn as he started to lose control and ground against her without any kind of thought or rhythm, the soft sounds in the back of Flynn’s throat and the rustle of fabric the only noise until she felt him coming, his teeth sinking into her shoulder.

Fuck.

Wyatt’s chest was heaving and she could feel Flynn trying to catch his breath behind her. She got little aftershocks of electricity every time Wyatt shifted underneath her, and every time she blinked she had stars sparking in the edge of her vision.

“We… should clean up our clothes,” Wyatt admitted.

“Or we could find a bedroom,” Flynn countered.

Lucy hummed, sagging back into Flynn. Hmm. It was still a few hours until the dinner.

And it had been _such_ a long time since she’d had both of them inside her…

She grabbed Wyatt’s hand. “Let’s find a bedroom.”


	49. Against the Wall

Living in a bunker with a bunch of other people meant that usually, Lucy and the boys tried to keep their stuff to the bedroom or the bathroom with the door locked.

But sometimes…

Sometimes she just couldn’t help herself.

“Get this off,” she hissed, yanking at Wyatt’s jacket while he yanked up her dress. He spun her, pinning her to the wall and getting his hand between her legs. “Oh, fuck, yes.”

She was already so slick, she’d been slick for hours, wanting it so badly and she wasn’t waiting another damn second—

Wyatt wasn’t wasting any time either, rubbing her clit and sliding two fingers into her. “Jesus Christ, Lucy,” he panted, his mouth right at her ear. “How—”

“Hours, Wyatt,” she whispered, grinding back into him and grinning at the hardness she could feel rubbing against her. “Get in me, get in me…”

He turned her back around and she undid his belt in record time as Wyatt kissed hungrily down her neck, sucking with each kiss. She was probably going to look like she’d lost a fight with an octopus in the morning.

She stroked him quickly, using the precome to slick the way, until Wyatt bit her and she took that for the warning it was. “Okay, okay.”

Wyatt got his legs underneath her thighs and hoisted her up, pressing her into the wall as she angled his cock to slide into her. “Ohhhh fuck.”

“You’re a minx,” Wyatt muttered into her neck. “A minx in heat.”

“I wasn’t the one who got into a f-fucking boxing match,” Lucy shot back. She’d have fucked him in the ring if there hadn’t been everyone still milling around. Wyatt fucked into her in sharp, tiny movements, the kind that were short but sweet and getting her at just the right angle.

“I could feel you watching,” Wyatt burst out, his hands gripping onto her tightly, digging in. “It was like, fuck, like you owned me—”

“And you like that.”

“Fuck yeah I like that.” Wyatt groaned as she tightened around him.

“C’mon.” Lucy shoved herself back onto his cock, already feeling her orgasm building up, slick and hot and squirming its way down her spine. “Yes, yes, just like—yes, fuck, Wyatt come on—”

“You’re so good,” he murmured into her skin. “You’re so—you feel so good, so—fuck, Lucy—”

He got his hand between her legs and dragged the pad of his thumb across her clit and that was it. Her orgasm slid down through her body like hot water and she dug her heels into his back, mewling.

Wyatt fucked into her a couple more times, shoving himself in all the way until she felt him empty into her, his legs shaking.

They stood there like that, getting their breath back, Wyatt’s breath hot on her neck, his come starting to slide out and down her inner thighs.

“Shower?” he suggested, kissing the bruises he’d left before.

“Shower.”

And then she’d get to see Flynn… Flynn who hadn't been boxing or having sex against the wall and so would have plenty of energy to spare for a nice, long, slow session…

Mmm, she loved having two boyfriends.


	50. Good Vibrations

It was one of their rare days off.

Lucy and Jiya were learning from Denise how to knit—or trying to learn—and Mason was doing something with Rufus.

Flynn was lying in bed next to Wyatt, dozing in nothing but his boxers.

And that just wouldn’t do.

Wyatt rolled over, nosing into Flynn’s neck and then sliding his hand over Flynn’s cock, massaging it through the fabric. Flynn’s eyes slowly blinked open as his cock slowly filled, the corner of his mouth ticking upward.

“Somebody’s on a mission,” he said, his accent thick and his voice rough and scratchy from lounging around.

Wyatt hummed and bent down, mouthing along the outline of Flynn’s cock, sucking at it, getting the fabric wet and clinging. Flynn slid his hand into Wyatt’s hair, tightening his grip as Wyatt continued to touch and mouth at him.

“Mmm, what are you planning?” Flynn asked.

Wyatt could feel his own cock, hot and heavy between his legs, and that deep itch inside of him, the one that made him want to spread his legs and feel Flynn in the back of his throat.

“I’m planning on you fucking me,” he said, pulling the boxers down and getting Flynn in his mouth properly.

Flynn’s hips flexed, but he only let Wyatt suck him down a few times before he pulled Wyatt up, kicking his boxers the rest of the way off and pulling Wyatt completely on top of him. Wyatt rolled his hips, lining up their cocks and gasping into Flynn’s mouth.

For a few minutes it was just that, lazy and slow, thrusting together as Flynn kissed him, an arm thrown around Wyatt’s waist, keeping him somewhat pinned. Then Wyatt spread his legs, straddling Flynn properly and digging his knees into the mattress so that he could get proper leverage. He could feel the heat building between his legs and rising up his spine and he wasn’t content just to have some lazy frottage to get to orgasm.

“Okay, okay,” Flynn laughed. He kissed Wyatt soundly, taking Wyatt’s face in his hands. “You want to do it the usual way?”

“As opposed to…?”

Flynn turned to brush his cheek against Wyatt’s stubble like the cat-in-human-disguise he was. “Lucy finally got that toy she promised.”

Wyatt shuddered. His weakness when it came to vibrators was a major source of fun for Flynn and Lucy, and so she’d said she would get them a vibrating cock ring for Flynn to use on Wyatt, since Flynn had protested it wasn’t at all fair that only Lucy got to fuck him like that with her strap on.

…the fact that they would have these discussions literally over Wyatt’s head while they all lazed around in bed just made it hilarious.

“So…” Flynn kissed slowly up Wyatt’s jaw. “We could use that… try it out…”

Mmm yes. “Yes, please.”

Flynn grinned against Wyatt’s skin. “I love when you’re in a ‘please’ mood. Ready to be good today? Hmm?”

“Yes.” Wyatt nuzzled Flynn, feeling hot and liquid all over. “I’ll be good.”

Flynn moved his hands down to Wyatt’s ass, using his grip to guide Wyatt into a slow, deep grind. “Let’s get you all ready then.”

Wyatt helpfully dug the lube out from underneath Lucy’s pillow—one of them had stuffed it there last night, he couldn’t remember—and Flynn slicked up his fingers, sliding his hand down Wyatt’s back to rub slowly around Wyatt’s hole, catching on the rim a few times just to tease. Wyatt distracted himself by kissing Flynn, the kind of slightly messy sucking kisses where they just licked their way into each other’s mouths again and again.

Flynn finally wiggled his finger in and Wyatt gave a helpless little noise, sucking on Flynn’s tongue as Flynn started to playfully dip his finger in and out, trying to be patient and not shove himself back onto Flynn’s touch too much.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Flynn encouraged, getting his finger in deeper, working him open. “You’re so eager, it always feels good.”

Wyatt felt his face heating up at the praise and gave an encouraging little moan as Flynn added a second finger, stroking in and out properly now. He could tell that Flynn was avoiding his prostate, trying to stop Wyatt from becoming too desperate too soon.

Flynn’s other hand left Wyatt’s back and went searching, yanking open the bedside drawer and scrounging around. “Push up for me,” Flynn instructed.

Wyatt braced himself on his hands, pushing up and allowing Flynn to slide the ring on. Flynn slid his fingers out, not adding a third first as he normally did—the stretch would help to distract from the vibrations and, again, keep this all from being over too quickly.

Sometimes Wyatt didn’t know whether to be pleased that Flynn (and Lucy) knew his body so well or embarrassed that he was so easy to read.

“You ready?” Flynn breathed.

Wyatt nodded.

“Go ahead then.”

Flynn’s hands skimmed up and down his sides and legs as Wyatt slowly lowered himself onto Flynn’s cock, his mouth dropping open as he felt the burn. Flynn entered him little by little, teasing thrusts that worked him into Wyatt in increments. Wyatt felt worked open, split, and stuffed, all at once, as he slowly moved down until he felt Flynn bottom out inside of him and their hips pressed together.

Wyatt breathed heavily through his nose, relaxing into it. “Okay,” he said, nodding. “Okay.”

Flynn pulled Wyatt to him, kissing him slowly as he started to thrust in properly. Wyatt felt sparks shoot up his spine and he twisted his hips, finding the angle that made his thighs seize up with each punch of pleasure.

They worked up a rhythm, until that slick friction started to be the only thing Wyatt could think about, fucking down slow and deep onto Flynn and pressing himself farther and farther down until he could kiss Flynn again, his forearms braced on either side of Flynn’s head.

“You ready?” Flynn asked, in between kisses.

Wyatt nodded.

He felt Flynn’s hand slide in between them, and then he jolted as vibrations shot through him.

“Oh holy fuck,” he burst out, shaking all over.

Flynn groaned, thrusting up into him. His arms wrapped around Wyatt’s lower back, pinning him against Flynn so that Flynn could shove himself all the way inside, the vibrations rocketing up through Wyatt’s spine and down his legs, making him a helpless wreck in Flynn’s arms.

“’S good,” Flynn slurred, his tempo speeding up. “You’re so… tight and hot and fuck…”

If even Flynn couldn’t manage proper dirty talk, then he had to be pretty far gone. Wyatt wanted to laugh but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a stuttering moan. His body was doing that thing where it started to tremble all over, feeling like he could feel every vibration radiating out through him, the pleasure pushed into every part of his DNA.

He couldn’t get away from the vibrations, not with Flynn using his impressive arm strength to keep Wyatt pinned to him, thrusting in all the way each time, hitting his prostrate and making Wyatt unable to thrust back properly—he could only writhe helplessly, shaking apart, wanting it to never end and also needing it to end before he lost his goddamn mind. Pressed together like this his cock was sliding in between their chests, getting pressure and heat as well, and he found himself just rutting mindlessly against Flynn’s muscled stomach, smearing precome all over as he chased the high that was just barely out of his reach.

Flynn shoved into him one last time and groaned, biting down onto Wyatt’s shoulder, and kept his cock pressed right up against Wyatt’s prostate. Wyatt swore his vision went white and he gave a soundless scream, the vibrations right up against those nerves, the pressure, the stretch from Flynn’s cock all combining to give him an overload that made his goddamn brain stop. He felt like he was melting, falling apart, and being electrocuted all at once, his hips shaking as he came all over Flynn’s stomach. Fuck, _fuck_ he couldn’t stop the orgasm just wasn’t _stopping_ , and Flynn was somehow thrusting into him again, hard and fast right at that angle and oh holy God he couldn’t—he wasn’t even babbling he was just letting out little _ah ah ah_ noises into Flynn’s neck and his body was moving without thought, just shaking, shaking, shaking, oh God please fuck oh—

He sucked in breaths like he’d forgotten how, Flynn switching off the ring and sliding out of him. He could already feel where they were starting to stick together from sweat and come, and he was pretty sure he had bruises from Flynn’s fingers where Flynn had been gripping him.

“Sveti _sranje_ ,” Flynn muttered.

Wyatt managed to weakly nod. They should do that again. Once he could feel his legs. And when Lucy was around to watch because that had been half of why she’d bought the thing in the first place.

For a while they just lay there, Flynn trailing his fingers slowly up and down Wyatt’s back, never once complaining that Wyatt was too heavy although Wyatt had to be impeding Flynn’s ability to breathe.

“I think I actually came twice,” Flynn said at last, sounding almost confused.

Wyatt laughed wearily.

“What?”

“Just—never thought I’d see the day when you were the one knocked for six.”

Flynn chuckled, then turned his head just enough to kiss the corner of Wyatt’s mouth. “You always knock me for six, _Liebling_.”

Wyatt shifted so that he was more against Flynn’s side, no longer crushing him. Moments like that, when Flynn said things like that… it was like realizing he was in love with Flynn all over again.

“You know we’re going to find all sorts of ways to play with you with this,” Flynn added suddenly.

…and then he said things like that and Wyatt remembered that his husband was also evil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have now written over 100k words of smut for this collection. 100k words. Of smut.
> 
> ...welp.


	51. Clever

They were stuck in Georgian England, trying to come up with a plan, and Rufus, Flynn, and Wyatt couldn’t agree on anything.

It didn’t help that all of them were tired. Flynn was even wearing his glasses, a sure sign that his eyes were exhausted.

Coupled with the 18th century outfit he was wearing it… did things to Lucy.

Flynn rolled his eyes, a gesture that managed to be even more insufferably smug while he was wearing the glasses. “You’re looking at it wrong. In the Georgian period of England highway robbers were considered romantic heroes. There were songs and plays about them. Nobility would brag about being robbed by one of them.”

Lucy let out a kind of choked sigh. Unfortunately, it was just loud enough for Flynn, Wyatt, and Rufus to hear her.

“Oh my God,” Flynn blurted out. “It’s a historian thing, isn’t it?”

Lucy’s face went bright pink.

“What’s a historian thing?” Wyatt asked.

Rufus rolled his eyes. “Could we discuss this later?”

“Believe me,” Flynn told Lucy, leaning in so that only she could hear, “We are definitely discussing this later.”

Lucy wasn’t sure if she should be excited or concerned.

…probably both.

 

* * *

 

“Jupiter’s moon Europa has ice volcanos. So does Enceladus, Saturn’s moon.”

Lucy looked up at Flynn, frowning. “What?”

“I’m testing if it’s intelligence and facts in general or specifically historical ones,” Flynn replied, leaning against the wall and shrugging nonchalantly.

He was still wearing the glasses, along with a soft gray turtleneck and black slacks.

…she was so screwed.

“It’s… it’s, um, intelligence in general, and competence, and just… the way you said it.”

“The way I said it?”

Lucy ran a hand through her hair. “You were just so casual and _knew_ and on top of it and that—that is insanely sexy to me.”

Flynn hummed, pushing off the wall to take a step towards her, shifting so that Lucy was now the one pressed against the wall, one of Flynn’s arms bracketing her in. “Does this mean I don’t have to start reciting historical facts during sex? Because I can memorize some if you want…”

Lucy smacked him lightly on the chest. “Don’t be a smartass.”

“I mean it, though,” Flynn replied, suddenly serious. “If that’s what you want.”

She was reminded, all over again, of how much Flynn genuinely wanted to please her, to make her happy. How he’d do anything to achieve that, up to and including catering to any and all of her sexual fantasies.

God, she loved him.

Lucy looked up at him. Dressed like this, with the glasses, he looked like the charming professor that you really, really shouldn’t have a thing for and were too intimidated to approach but would climb into his lap if he asked.

She’d never had anyone nearly as attractive as a professor or as a colleague, and she’d never been the type to want to cross that line in real life anyway. It wasn’t worth all the complications that came with it.

But damn, did Flynn perfectly fit the aesthetic.

“I mean… you could just accept the fact that I’m going to want to jump you when you’re smart,” Lucy mused, stepping in and walking her fingers up his chest. “Or…” She looked up at him through her lashes. “…we could play with it a little.”

Flynn’s hands settled at her hips, almost as if he wasn’t even realizing he was doing it. “Oh?” he drawled, arching an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twisting upward playfully.

She ran her hands slowly down his chest, fingers splayed. “We could say I’m your TA who’s noticed you’re stressed…” She got up onto her toes, ever so softly kissing his jaw. “…and you know you shouldn’t… but I’m very persuasive…”

Flynn hummed, as if thinking about it. Then his hands tightened on her hips and he pulled her to him, tilting his head and catching her mouth, kissing her in that deep, thorough way that made her melt.

“Or I could just tell you what I was doing in 1754 and what the plan was,” Flynn told her, his voice rough as he got a hand in her hair and used it to tug her head back, kissing her throat. “Seeing as you three got yourselves accused of being spies before you even figured out what I was up to.”

…yeah, she was seriously screwed.

Lucky for her she was screwed in the best way.

“All right,” she whispered, her hand tangling in his hair as Flynn sucked at her pulse point, making her shudder. “Tell me.”

They had never found out what Flynn was doing in 1754. She hadn’t known when they’d jumped to follow him, and they’d been on the run and captured before they’d found out. By the time they ran into Flynn again there’d been that whole mess with his mother and the space race and the subject just hadn’t come up.

Flynn chuckled, his arms coming around her waist to lift her up. Lucy was used to it, although she’d used to squeak in surprise. Now she just wrapped her legs around his waist and let him keep planting those delicious kisses up and down her neck.

“You sure? You might get a little mad at me.” Flynn was teasing her, kicking the bedroom door closed behind them and laying her down on the bed so that he could kiss even farther down than her neck.

Lucy undid her dress buttons as quickly as she could. God, she hated how damn difficult it was to get clothes off. Not that they’d really stopped people having sex—she could have just lifted up her skirts for that—but she wanted them off all the way, dammit.

Flynn helped, used to getting her and Wyatt out of their period clothing, his nimble fingers going much faster than her own trembling ones, and his mouth following after, marking a trail of heat down, down, down her body.

“The plan,” Flynn mused, his tongue circling her nipple, biting softly, making her gasp and arch into his touch, “was that there was no plan.”

“What?” Lucy felt hazy, grasping at him with weak fingers.

Flynn sucked on her breast, then moved his mouth lower, to her stomach. “I picked the year because you mentioned it in your journal. But you didn’t say anything else about it. I decided it was a good place—far enough in the past—to trap you all.”

He spread her thighs apart and oh, please, she wanted his mouth there she wanted him licking at her, she wanted…

But Flynn moved back up, smirking when she exhaled loudly in protest. “Mmm, can’t tell you everything if my mouth’s full, can I?”

“I’d wait,” she replied, but Flynn slowly dragged a knuckle through her folds and she shuddered, melting inside.

“Or I could do this,” Flynn pointed out. He kissed just below her ear, his thumb rubbing her clit slowly, making her legs seize up and turn to jelly by turns. “I figured… I’d leave you there for a week or so, or at least a week for you three. Come back with just a pilot, see if you hadn’t changed your minds about joining me.”

“We might not have,” Lucy gasped, the end of her sentence coming out desperate and high-pitched as Flynn worked a finger inside of her. “We—we might h-have been—dead.”

Flynn hummed in acknowledgment. “But I knew you wouldn’t be. You kept writing in the journal. I knew you would be all right.”

He slid a second finger into her and Lucy’s eyelids fluttered. It was a clever plan, to travel just for the sake of trapping his enemies, to use a week in a 18th century warzone to try and change their minds. And she liked—she liked how goddamn clever he could be, and how he appreciated when she was clever, she liked that he was methodical and thorough like right now as he… oh God as he…

Flynn kissed her, his tongue scraping along the roof of her mouth as he thrust his fingers into her. “What do you want?”

“Inside me,” she gasped out. “You, inside me.”

Flynn pulled his fingers out of her and Lucy spread her legs, giving him room to slide his cock into her instead. She moaned, kissing him ferociously.

“And anyway,” Flynn added, his mouth right at her ear, “I would never leave you stranded. I’d always come back for you.”

Lucy clenched around him, making him swear and jerk inside of her. Yes, of course, of course even back then, he would never have left her. “Clever,” she admitted, the word stuttered out as Flynn thrust in her again, deep, the way she liked.

“Told you we’re both geniuses,” he replied, a shit-eating grin flickering across his face.

Lucy laughed, breathless, cradling his face in her hands. “Mmm, but we—we found a way—to get back on our own.”

“You did.” Flynn kissed the hollow of her throat, then the corner of her mouth. “But after you tricked me in D.C. I knew I had to get you back somehow.”

He stole the laughter right out of her mouth that time, kissing her as he sped up. Lucy sucked on his tongue, her hands moving down from his face to his shoulders, his back, her nails digging in, keeping him as deep inside of her as she could. She could easily imagine what it would have been like, still stuck in the past, Flynn appearing, smug as anything and ready to offer them a ride home in the Mothership, having actually backed them into a corner. That was something she missed, almost—the back and forth they’d had, the way they’d outplayed one another like chess. But Flynn was on their side now and it was so much better—this, this, was so much better—all of that cleverness, clever mind and clever fingers and clever mouth—

“And what can I say,” Flynn added, that _I’m a sassy little shit but you love me anyway_ tone in his voice, “I thought you might want to meet a young George Washington. Pity that didn’t work out. Why do you think I had you land right where you did?”

Oh that—he knew where Washington’s goddamn close call had been when he was nineteen, he knew—fuck she hated that he was aware and loved that he was aware of what this did to her, what his knowledge and intelligence did to her—

Flynn kissed her as she came, pushing a cry into his mouth, his tongue stealing it, feeling him deep inside of her. She was still coasting on it when Flynn came a half-second later, still kissing her, his mouth forming words she couldn’t decipher.

“Does this mean I get sex every time I think up a good plan?” he asked her, once their chests stopped heaving.

“Not if you’re going to be insufferable about it,” she replied.

Flynn smirked at her like he knew that was a bald-faced lie, and… all right, so maybe it was, but she wasn’t going to admit to it out loud.

He’d gotten smug enough for one day.


	52. Santa Baby

The boys really should’ve, in retrospect, known better than to dangle bait like that in front of Lucy.

Even if they hadn’t realized at the time that it was bait.

It was Christmas season, and while Rufus was atheist and Jiya and Denise weren’t Christian, Mason had of all people found his Christmas spirit and was blasting holiday classics from his record player all day.

Flynn was silently if pointedly suffering through it, reading a book on the couch and absently running his hands through Lucy’s hair as she dozed on his chest. Wyatt was sprawled on the floor, watching football.

He frowned, glancing up. “Is that fucking _Santa Baby_?”

Flynn paused, listened. “Yup.”

“Ugh.” Wyatt turned the volume of the game up. “Of all the cliché… that song is the most ridiculous thing ever.”

“Apparently some people think it’s sexy,” Flynn said, as the increased volume from the television made Lucy wake up.

“Sexy? It’s stupid.”

“Hey, I didn’t say I thought it was sexy, I said some people think that.”

“So you agree with me.”

Lucy listened quietly as the two men ragged on the song, then settled back onto Flynn’s chest, a small, unnoticed smile on her face.

 _Santa Baby_ wasn’t sexy, huh?

Well, she and Eartha Kitt would beg to differ.

And to prove it through a little demonstration.

 

* * *

 

Two nights later, Lucy prevailed upon Mason to let her borrow his record player, and Denise smuggled Rufus, Mason, and Jiya to a cabin in the mountains where Rufus’s mom and brother would be joining them for the holidays, supposedly using the money from Rufus’s life insurance to pay for a little ‘retreat’ for their ‘first Christmas without him’.

Which meant they now had the bunker all to themselves for the week. Even Rittenhouse wasn’t going to go on missions when their members were ninety percent white and Christian and wanted to spend the biggest holiday of the year with their families.

Lucy set up the record player and then put two chairs in front of the empty space by the lifeboat, then trained one of the lights on the area like a spotlight. While Wyatt was in the shower and Flynn was banging around on the Lifeboat for some weird present he was gifting Rufus, she turned off the lights everywhere else, and then trailed a string of glowing Christmas lights through the bunker in a trial leading to the ‘stage’ area, wrapping them around to make a circle.

Yes, she had been a Theatre Kid in high school.

When Flynn emerged from the Lifeboat, he found Lucy nowhere in sight and the whole place dark except for one area with two chairs, an improvised spotlight lamp, and Christmas lights forming the outline of a ‘stage’.

Wyatt was standing in a pair of pajama pants, staring in puzzlement. “There was a trail of lights leading here,” he said. “Also, I can’t find Lucy.”

Flynn frowned, then looked again at the seats.

One of them had a piece of paper on it.

Figuring it was pretty simple logic that Lucy wanted them to sit in the chairs and read the paper, Flynn walked over and picked it up.

The piece of paper had one simple instruction on it:

_No touching allowed._

Wyatt looked over at Flynn. “I think we pissed her off somehow.”

Flynn shook his head. “I think this is one of those ‘follow orders and we’ll get rewarded’ scenarios.”

“More like ‘being punished and rewarded at the same time’,” Wyatt replied, sitting down in the left-hand chair.

Flynn sat down in the other one. Lucy must’ve been watching them, because about ten seconds later, strains of music started to fill the room.

Wyatt almost facepalmed. Flynn just laughed. They both knew the game that was about to be played now, but previous times, they’d, ah, been unable to move. Now their hands were free and it was just their own self-restraint keeping them from breaking the rule.

Lucy Preston had struggled with a lot of things in her life, one of them being self-confidence. She’d definitely grown in that one, especially in her sex life—both men could admit this was probably their fault seeing as they’d made their feelings on that quite clear—and so it was with complete confidence that they saw her saunter up in between them, her hands lightly brushing their shoulders as she stepped up into the light…

…wearing a very short, very tight little red Santa dress. It had a flouncy skirt that swished when she walked, and was trimmed, appropriately, with white fur along the bottom. She had little boots, and stockings, and little red gloves, and a little red coat on top. She’d curled her hair and then pinned it back, and was even sporting a Santa hat.

“Holy shit,” Wyatt croaked out.

Flynn would have concurred but he had sort of forgotten what words were.

Lucy winked at Wyatt, placing her hands on her hips, then started to sing.

That was the moment the two men realized, oh, yup, they’d dangled red in front of a bull and hadn’t even known it.

“Santa baby,” Lucy cooed, her voice caressing the words as she walked around Wyatt’s chair, her hands sliding down his bare chest from behind, “slip a sable under the tree, for me.” She pulled around, drawing the skirt of her dress up, revealing a hint of bare thigh before dropping it down again. “Been an awful good girl, Santa, baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight…”

Lucy sauntered back up, hips swaying, and began to delicately take off her gloves. “Santa baby, a ’54 convertible too, light blue. I’ll wait up for you, dear.” She dropped the gloves to the side. “Santa, baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.”

She walked over to Flynn, who looked like he had to remember how to breathe.

“Think of all the fun I’ve missed,” she sang, bracing her hand around Flynn’s shoulders on the back of the chair and leaning in, her voice getting softer as her mouth drew closer to his, “think of all the fellas that I…” she pulled away and stood up, leaving Flynn with a gobsmacked look on his face, “… _haven’t_ kissed.”

Lucy turned away, her back to them, and undid the coat. “Next year, I could be just as good…” She slid the coat down her arms, revealing miles of bare skin as it hit both men that the dress was strapless and doing an excellent job of hugging her body like it’d been molded to it. She turned around, dropping the coat on the floor. “…if you’ll check off my Christmas list.”

She went back over to Wyatt and braced her foot on his thigh, indicating her boot. “Santa baby, I want a yacht and really that’s… not a lot.” She bent down over her knee, putting her breasts right at his eye level. Then she straightened up, foot still in place.

Wyatt, who looked like he was physically incapable of looking away from her, slipped the boot off her foot. Lucy trailed her free foot down to right between Wyatt’s legs, pressing down.

Wyatt made a strangled noise.

Lucy smirked, pulling her foot away and switching feet for Wyatt to undo the other boot. “Been an angel all year.” She tilted her head and gave him a smirking little pout, as if to say she knew exactly how much of a lie that was. “Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.”

Her other boot off, she moved back into the circle of lights, slowly drawing her hands up her legs until she’d pushed the skirt up enough to show a flash of red silk underwear. “Santa, honey,” she sang, slowly drawing the stockings down, “there’s one thing I really do need.”

She raised her leg as she drew the stocking down her leg, kicking the stocking away once it was just hanging from her toes and then landing on it, shifting her weight gracefully to the other leg, repeating it with the other stocking. “The deed… to a platinum mine, Santa baby…” Her hands slid up her bare inner thighs to her hips, circling them slowly. “So hurry down the chimney tonight.”

Lucy took off her hat as she practically prowled over to Flynn, her hair coming loose and curling around her face and down her back. She sat sideways in his lap and Flynn’s hands clenched as he fought the urge to touch her.

“Santa, cutie,” she sang, plopping the hat on his head and then cocking hers to the side, trailing a finger slowly down his chest. “And fill my stocking with a duplex, and checks.” She made a little ‘x’ mark. “Sign your X on the line, Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight.”

She stood up again, her hand going to the zipper at the back of the dress. “Come and trim my Christmas tree,” she sang, slowly drawing the zipper down, “with some decorations bought at Tiffany’s…”

The dress fell away, revealing two scraps of silk that could barely be called a set of underwear, the bra strapless and doing only just enough to keep her breasts from spilling out.

This was about the time Flynn wondered if this was how he died (Wyatt was convinced that he already had died, he just hadn’t realized it yet).

“I really do, believe in you…” Lucy blew Flynn a kiss. “Let’s see if you believe in me…”

She crossed over to Wyatt, sinking to her knees and putting her hands on his thighs. “Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing,” she said, shrugging as if in coquettish apology, her gaze flicking down between his legs and then back up to his face. “A ring.”

She pushed herself up using her grip on his legs, until her breasts were brushing his chest. Then, like with Flynn, she abruptly pulled away before he could kiss her. “I don’t mean on the phone.”

Lucy turned, reaching out and hooking her finger under Flynn’s chin, tilting his head up to look her in the eye. “Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.”

She sauntered up into the lights again. “Hurry down the chimney tonight…” Her hands slid over her curves, her voice breathy. She ran a hand through her hair and turned to face them. “Hurry…”

She sat down on Flynn’s lap again, this time straddling him. “Tonight…”

The music ended and she crooked a finger at Wyatt.

Wyatt was moving before he even realized he was doing it, crossing over to them. Lucy took his chin in her hand and kissed him—her mouth tasted like peppermint, he realized—and then she pulled away and turned to kiss Flynn.

“Very good,” she purred when both of them kept still, following the rule even though the song was over. She took Flynn’s hand and put it on her thigh. “You can touch, now.”

Both men surged to life. Wyatt kissed her again, tangling his hands in her hair as Flynn got his mouth on her breasts, his hand squeezing her thigh once before sliding up between her legs, rubbing at her through her underwear.

Lucy worked her hand underneath Wyatt’s pants, wrapping it around his cock and he groaned, his mouth shaking against hers. Flynn kissed along her neck, the ridge of her shoulder, his fingers getting underneath her underwear to start to slide inside of her. Wyatt’s kisses to Lucy got desperate, sloppy, his hips jerking until he was coming hard all over her hand, his legs buckling.

Lucy grabbed Flynn’s wrist and pulled his hand away. “Wyatt?” she ordered sweetly, indicating her bra.

Wyatt undid it, his fingers shaking a little from the aftershocks, as she undid Flynn’s pants and shoved her underwear to the side to slide down onto him. Neither Flynn nor Wyatt stopped moving their hands all over her as she pushed herself up and down on him, moving slowly, almost as if she could still hear the beat of the music in her head, until Flynn’s fingers dug into her back and he came with a full-body shudder, a choked growl against her lips. Wyatt’s hand got between her legs and rubbed at her clit, making sure she went over the edge—and pretty much destroying her underwear in the process.

“So,” Lucy panted, sending them both a wicked grin. “Not such a stupid song, is it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Eartha Kitt supposedly had a threesome with Paul Newman and James Dean once. I say 'supposedly' because it's not like we have video evidence but... if you ask me...
> 
> Lucy's just continuing Eartha's legacy.


	53. Old Fantasies Die Hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame koortega for this. And extasiswings, as always. Yes that's a pun in the chapter title. I have zero regrets.

The thing was…

The thing _was_.

The _thing_ was.

Up until—a certain point, Wyatt had been quite content to ignore the whole weird hot twisting feeling in his gut when he saw Flynn. He’d been very good at shoving that firmly into the hate category, the way he had with every other man he’d had that feeling for.

And then he’d been handcuffed to a chair and Flynn had been standing over him, cool and collected, in charge, and Wyatt had found his legs spreading of their own accord, his heart thumping wildly in his chest, heat spreading through him and fuck, fuck, he hadn’t been able to ignore it at all.

Now, of course, he was literally married to the idiot. He woke up with his face mashed into Flynn’s shoulder most mornings. The mornings where he didn’t, he woke up with his face buried in Lucy’s hair. When he got that heat in his gut he could act on it, with either of them. He didn’t have to fear it or be ashamed of it or ignore it anymore. And when he looked at Flynn, and Lucy, it wasn’t just heat. It was warmth in his chest, tumblers clicking into place, _home_.

But he’d never fully forgotten that moment. Knowing it was the absolute worst moment to be turned on, knowing it was ridiculous and stupid, but sitting there and wishing Flynn would plant his hands on Wyatt’s thighs and nearly jumping out of his skin every time Flynn had gotten close.

“Okay,” Lucy said, slightly tipsy. They were all slightly tipsy. The wine sat on the nightstand, Wyatt was sitting back against the pillows on the bed, and Lucy was draped over his legs, poking at Flynn’s arm as Flynn lazed on his side. “Okay, okay, so. First moment you wanted to fuck the other two.”

Flynn groaned.

“I’ll go first.” Lucy grinned. “I first wanted to fuck you…” She poked Flynn again. “When we were at the horses. With your… fucking cravat, like… mmmm.”

Flynn ran his hand fondly through her hair. “Not exactly the easiest conversation.”

“Yeah but. Your outfit. And. And your ass.”

Wyatt snorted with laughter.

Lucy grinned at him. “Shhhh you it was. Mmm. Bonnie and Clyde. I wasn’t in love with you or anything but that was. A good kiss.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Lucy crawled forward on the bed, kissing him slow and soft. “Like that.” She flopped back down onto the bed. “Garcia. Garcia. What about you?”

Flynn rolled his eyes. “I don’t think it matters…”

“Sure it does.”

Flynn sighed. “When—from the moment I met you, Lucy, I thought you were beautiful.”

Lucy pushed herself up and kissed Flynn softly, smiling into it. “But thinking someone’s beautiful doesn’t equal wanting to fuck them,” she said in a singsong voice.

Flynn sighed in a very put-upon manner. “It was when you got in my face at the train station.”

“Of course it was when she was telling you off,” Wyatt laughed.

Flynn raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh? So when did you know?”

Wyatt swallowed. _When you handcuffed me to a chair_ didn’t sound all that good. “Uh…”

“You’re blushing,” Lucy laughed, a wide grin on her face.

“Thanks, Luce.” Wyatt untangled some of her hair, winding the dark strands around his fingers. “Uh. It was. Um. In D.C.”

Both of his spouses stared at him.

“D.C.,” Flynn said flatly.

“Oh,” Lucy gushed. “Oh, this is _good_.”

“Wyatt, I had you chloroformed and tied to a chair.”

Wyatt cleared his throat and looked away.

“…oh my God,” Flynn muttered.

“This is amazing,” Lucy declared.

“It’s not amazing! Wyatt!”

“Look, I already kind of—I was just good at ignoring it,” Wyatt explained. “Pretending it wasn’t there. Or writing it off as something else. And then—it was just you and me in that room forever and you were in that damn suit and hovering over me and in—just in so much control, I mean—I couldn’t ignore it anymore.”

Flynn was still staring at him. Wyatt huffed. “It’s not like I wanted you to actually—I didn’t want—I’m not fantasizing about my consent being taken away or anything, Jesus.”

“No, you’re just fantasizing that we fucked while you were my hostage.”

“Maybe?”

Lucy just looked delighted by the whole thing.

“It wasn’t that…” Wyatt sighed. “It wasn’t the hostage thing. It was that I was stuck in a room with you, in a place where I couldn’t run away, couldn’t avoid you, and the whole… you were so in control of the situation and I liked that and I hated that I liked that, and I hated how I felt when you stood near me, and I couldn’t avoid any of it anymore, and I couldn’t help but wonder what you would do if you knew how I was feeling, and how that… might play out.”

He didn’t dare look at them.

After a long moment, he felt the mattress shift as Flynn moved to sit next to him, his arm worming its way around Wyatt’s shoulders to pull him into Flynn’s side. Lucy crawled up a little so that her head was properly in Flynn’s lap.

“Sounds to me,” Lucy said softly, “like you wanted someone else to make you admit you liked men so that you didn’t have to deal with it yourself.”

Wyatt shrugged, tucking his face into Flynn’s shoulder so he didn’t have to look at either of them.

“Hey.” Lucy took his hand, kissing his palm. “It’s okay. Why do you think we make up arguments in the shower, huh? If someone forces us to talk about it, then suddenly it’s not our fault. We can shift away the responsibility.”

“You like when we take control,” Flynn noted, his voice a quiet rumble.

“I’m not getting off on… on rape or anything,” Wyatt mumbled. “And I know you’d never do that, ever, and I wouldn’t want you to. But it was a way, I guess, to… I like when you guys hold me down, and I like when you’re in control, and this was just another version of that.”

“Well,” Lucy drawled, a mischievous tone in her voice, “when you imagined it, later, how did it go down?”

Wyatt could feel his face heating up. “Are you really gonna make me say it out loud?”

“Yes,” Flynn and Lucy said simultaneously.

Wyatt sat up a little more, pretty sure he was going to die of embarrassment. “Um. So.” He still had trouble asking for what he wanted, sometimes, saying it all out loud. “I kind of… my legs were just…”

“Spreading?” Flynn said dryly. “I noticed that.”

“Oh fuck’s sake.” Wyatt buried his face in his hands. “Just kill me now.”

“Nope, nope, we married you, you have a crush on us, the truth’s out,” Lucy announced.

“It wasn’t intentional!” Wyatt explained, dropping his hands. “It just sort of happened! And he was talking all in that voice of his and he smelled really good—”

Flynn blinked in surprise, then looked off into the distance, thinking. “What cologne was I wearing?”

“A really good one,” Wyatt said miserably.

“And your legs just opened for business,” Lucy added.

“I hate you.” Wyatt took a deep breath. “So there were—I got angry, I was angry, but part of it was there was a point where I could, uh, I started to worry about you looking down.”

Lucy cackled, burying her face in Wyatt’s thigh in a failed attempt to muffle the sound.

“How did I not notice this?” Flynn asked.

“You failed to notice I was in love with you for months,” Lucy replied.

“I got things, um, under control. It helped that you really did piss me off.” Wyatt swallowed, taking another deep breath. “But after that I’d—I’d wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t gotten it under control, if it had gotten really obvious and you’d noticed. How you’d—how you’d touch me and tell me it was okay, that I didn’t have to hide it—and I’d say some bullshit and it would turn into an argument and then you’d just—just slide your hands up my thighs and say okay, well you don’t have to say anything, I’ll just say is this okay, and all you have to do is nod or say yes.” Wyatt paused. “I didn’t know how to ask, but I knew how to turn it down if I didn’t want it and in my head, I guess, having you say all of it, and having you do it, was a loophole. All I had to do was say yes.”

Lucy reached up, poking him gently in the cheek. “And when the person’s in your head they can literally read your mind and know what you want.”

Wyatt snorted. “Yeah, that too.”

She sat up. “We’re totally doing this now, you know.”

“…we are?” Flynn asked.

“We so are,” Lucy confirmed.

“…why.”

“Because it’ll help Wyatt, because it’s going to be hot as fuck for me to watch, and because you two will have fun with it.”

“In what way,” Flynn said dryly.

“Well.” Lucy leaned in, kissing Flynn’s nose. “You’re now very aware that Wyatt wants you.”

“I think I’ve noticed now, yes,” Flynn said, holding up his wedding ring.

“So, it can become a game.” Lucy’s eyes danced. She trailed her fingers down Flynn’s chest. “You… do whatever you want to get Wyatt to beg for you. And Wyatt… has to last as long as he can without begging.”

Wyatt’s stomach went hot and he glanced at Flynn.

Flynn looked over at Wyatt, swallowed, his eyes darkening as he looked at him. Wyatt tried not to squirm.

Lucy leaned into Wyatt, her lips brushing his ear. “I bet I can even get him to wear a suit.”

Wyatt’s mouth went dry. “Yes,” he croaked.

Flynn’s eyes didn’t leave him. “Yes.”

 

* * *

 

Lucy secured his wrists with ties. Wyatt normally didn’t like getting tied up in any capacity, unlike Lucy and Flynn, but it fit the mood and it wasn’t handcuffs or rope, it was Lucy’s lovely red silk tie, and Lucy was the one doing it. She would make sure he could actually get out if he had to.

Besides, it was just his hands. Just like last time, he could find a way out of this. And Flynn wouldn’t burst in with a henchman to put a gun in his face.

“All good?” Lucy whispered, kissing his cheek.

Wyatt nodded.

She slipped away. “I’ll be right here,” she said, settling on the bed behind him. Wyatt couldn’t see her, his back to her, which was the point. Lucy could watch and touch herself that way, but Wyatt couldn’t see her, couldn’t be brought out of the moment.

Flynn entered a moment later, not on any particular cue, just having come from the bathroom where he’d been changing. He was still fiddling with a cuff, in fact, and walked past Wyatt with an amused grimace at him to get Lucy to fix it.

Flynn was a little meticulous about his outfits.

It wasn’t the same suit he’d worn that time. That one had been lost. Wyatt wasn’t wearing the same outfit either, although according to Flynn he looked “very pretty” in pink. He was wearing his light blue button up, no undershirt underneath—creative liberties for easy access—and jeans instead of tailored pants. Flynn was wearing his dark red shirt with the charcoal vest and pants because Lucy had pouted and said _please_ and Flynn had caved immediately.

Flynn walked back over and Wyatt could practically feel the ripple in the air as Flynn shifted, moving subtly from his everyday self into whoever he had decided he had to be to win this little game. The rules were simple and few: Flynn had to get Wyatt to beg.

Wyatt had to last as long as he could before caving.

He would cave. He knew it, Flynn knew it, Lucy knew it. But not without a fight, he wasn’t.

“So,” Flynn drawled. He leaned against the dresser, hands in his pockets, which drew Wyatt’s eye down to his… nope, nope, not thinking about that. Wyatt snapped his eyes back up to Flynn’s face. “Just you and me. However are we going to pass the time?”

“Sullen silence?” Wyatt suggested. “You monologue and I pretend to listen?”

Flynn dragged his gaze slowly up Wyatt’s body and Wyatt felt himself getting hot all over. Flynn had done that before, not in a sexual way but just in a coolly assessing way, back in D.C., and Wyatt could still remember his legs spreading of their own accord and his body slumping and suppressing a shudder.

“You can’t think of anything more productive?” Flynn asked, his tone casual. He took his hands out of his pockets, circling around Wyatt, and as he passed around the back of Wyatt’s chair his fingertips brushed Wyatt’s shoulders, ghosting over the back of his neck.

Wyatt swallowed down a small noise. “Hey, you set this up. You should’ve thought about what to do once you got me here.”

“Trust me, I’ve got an idea or two,” Flynn replied.

Oh, fuck, the promise in his tone… Flynn walked back into Wyatt’s line of sight as Wyatt shifted, trying not to let it show, trying to look nonchalant…

He avoided Flynn’s gaze, only for Flynn to grab a hold of his hair and _tug_. Wyatt inhaled sharply, arousal spiking through him faster than he could stifle it, and he had to bite on his tongue so hard to hold in his whimper that he nearly drew blood.

Flynn had his head pulled back so that Wyatt had no choice but to look up at him. “No zoning out,” Flynn ordered.

Jesus Christ.

Wyatt nodded, and Flynn’s touch gentled, his fingers petting through Wyatt’s hair before his hand trailed down along Wyatt’s cheek. Wyatt jerked his face away, trying not to give into his instinct to press into it, to seek more of Flynn’s touch.

“Skittish?” Flynn commented.

Wyatt glared at him.

Flynn glanced pointedly between Wyatt’s legs, where his pants were, well… it was starting to look a little obvious that Wyatt was having trouble keeping his thoughts PG.

“That’s one way we could spend our time,” Flynn said softly.

He took Wyatt’s chin in his hands, tilting Wyatt’s face up. “It’ll be a lot more fun than sullen silence.”

Flynn’s grip shifted downward, his hand lightly on Wyatt’s throat, his thumb slowly dragging up and down Wyatt’s thundering pulse as Wyatt struggled to swallow down the urge to buck his hips up, to moan, to do something, anything to urge Flynn forward.

“How about this,” Flynn said, and his hand fell away. He moved, bent down, and put his hands on Wyatt’s knees.

Normally, Flynn had no compunction about getting on his knees for Wyatt, or Lucy for that matter, but right now that might look like he was conceding power. He clearly wanted to tower over Wyatt, to keep the high ground, and Wyatt, God help him, wanted Flynn to. Wanted to feel loomed over, exposed, vulnerable.

“I’ll do the talking. And the touching. And you just tell me if you want me to stop.” Flynn’s hands slowly slid up Wyatt’s thighs as he spoke and oh, fuck, this had been the part Wyatt had imagined over and over in his head in bed, in the shower, furtive and guilty. “Or…” His thumbs rubbed slowly up and down the crease of Wyatt’s thighs and fuck, Wyatt was seriously wondering if his jeans were actually going to survive this. “…tell me if you want me to fuck you properly.”

He trembled, part of him wanting so badly to say _yes, c’mon, fuck me, please,_ wanting Flynn to untie him and drive him into the goddamn mattress.

But he wasn’t going to give in. He wasn’t going to lose the game that quickly.

“Sound reasonable?” Flynn asked. He pressed lightly, spreading Wyatt’s legs just that much wider.

Wyatt swallowed. Fuck, he couldn’t trust himself to speak right now.

He nodded instead.

It was good that they’d gotten to a place in their relationship of assumed consent—a place where all three of them could be pretty damn sure the other two wanted them. Because normally Flynn would be insisting on verbal confirmation, and Wyatt was ninety percent certain that if he spoke, he was going to just start blurting out gibberish, and that wasn’t going to help anybody.

Flynn gave him a look that was nothing short of smoldering, like he was already picturing the moment where Wyatt gave in and begged him, and then he was leaning in, like he was going to kiss him—

Only for Flynn to slide past until his mouth was at Wyatt’s ear. “Not just yet,” he teased, his voice sweet and thick and low, mouth curling around the vowels, and Wyatt knew that Flynn knew the spur of disappointment in Wyatt’s chest that Flynn hadn’t kissed him.

Flynn’s hand moved to cup Wyatt through his jeans and Wyatt just barely stifled the instinct to buck up into the touch. “So tense,” Flynn murmured, squeezing lightly, and Wyatt viciously chewed on the inside of his cheek to keep himself quiet. “You sure there’s nothing you want to ask for? Because I’ll just keep taking my sweet time with you until you do.”

Wyatt didn’t say anything but he was pretty sure his face spoke volumes. No way was he giving in just yet.

He wasn’t quite sure, since she’d worked to stifle it, but he thought he’d heard Lucy made a rather satisfied noise behind them. He wanted to turn his head and look—watching Lucy unravel was always a sight that was nothing short of glorious—but he was still playing the game, and letting himself get distracted would be as good as begging.

Flynn kissed the soft skin just below his ear, his stubble scraping slightly, and Wyatt couldn’t hold in his shiver. Flynn was still working him with his hand, the rough friction of the denim enough to tease and send the fire in his chest spiking hotter but not really giving him what he needed.

“You seem a little hot,” Flynn noted. He let go and Wyatt knew if he’d been standing up he would’ve crumpled to the floor just then. His knees were numb from Flynn touching him, everything focused just on Flynn’s hands.

Wyatt knew what Flynn was going to do just from what he’d said, but that didn’t make it any easier to keep from reacting when Flynn ducked his mouth away from Wyatt’s again, kissing the hollow of Wyatt’s throat and then working his way downward as he slowly undid Wyatt’s shirt, each button taking its damn sweet time to slip free. When he’d finished, Flynn trailed his hand up Wyatt’s chest, pushing the fabric of the shirt more out of the way, gazing down admiringly, proprietarily.

Had Flynn actually looked at him like that when they’d been in D.C., Wyatt would’ve tried to headbutt him. But Wyatt trusted Flynn now, trusted him with everything, and he knew for a fact that the only reason Flynn was looking at him like that was because Wyatt had said he wanted that. He liked it when Flynn and Lucy casually, like it was nothing, took control and made the decisions for him.

Flynn ran his fingers along Wyatt’s chest, his thumb rubbing around and then against one of Wyatt’s nipples, then went lower, skimming the waistband of Wyatt’s jeans. Wyatt couldn’t help how his cock twitched in response. Fuck, it was like his skin was too small for his body, and he wanted so much more than what Flynn was giving him—and Flynn knew that. Bastard.

“So very pretty,” Flynn murmured, and Wyatt flushed. It was a compliment he especially liked, if only because it went against all he’d been taught he should try and be. Men were handsome, athletic, hot, not _pretty_.

But the way Flynn and Lucy said it made it sound like the best thing in the world. The most delightful thing, something they almost couldn’t believe.

Flynn drew his finger along the outline of Wyatt’s cock and a low whine escaped before Wyatt could stop it. Flynn smirked. “Sure there’s nothing you want to ask me for?” he asked, like he was wondering if Wyatt wanted a glass of water.

What he wanted was for Flynn to fuck him right fucking _now_ , but he wasn’t quite ready to give in and say that. Not just yet. He held his tongue.

Flynn shrugged. “All right then.”

He started undoing his pants and Wyatt just about lost it.

“If you don’t want to get in on the fun, that’s up to you,” Flynn continued. He drew his cock out and Wyatt’s mouth watered. “I guess I’ll just have to mark you up on the outside this time.”

On the one hand… yes please. On the other hand… Wyatt really wanted to get his mouth on that. On the _other_ , other hand… if he kept quiet would that mean Flynn wouldn’t fuck him?

Or would Flynn just keep teasing him until he got it up again and could fuck Wyatt properly?

Either way, it stopped mattering once Flynn braced himself with one hand by sliding it into Wyatt’s hair again, anchoring himself and forcing Wyatt to stay in one position, to watch as Flynn stroked himself. Jesus Christ that was hot—and he could definitely faintly hear Lucy now, thoroughly enjoying the entire show. He suspected she’d gagged herself to keep from being too loud. Lucy was close to silent—it took a lot of work to get a noise out of her—but she couldn’t quite disguise her labored breathing or certain slick noises.

Wyatt bit through his lip so hard it bled as Flynn locked eyes with him and sped up his free hand, the other one still keeping its grip in Wyatt’s hair, until he grunted and really did mark up Wyatt’s chest, making Wyatt whine again, making him feel claimed and like Flynn’s and it was much better than anything he’d imagined back when he’d hated himself for thinking about it because he knew Flynn now, knew that being Flynn’s and Lucy’s meant being loved and indulged and cared for, and he felt simultaneously cherished because they were doing this for him and his fantasy but he also felt dirty and used and the dichotomy of it made his head spin and it was all making him want so very, very badly—

Goddammit, fine, _fine_.

He tried to speak, couldn’t get the words out. Flynn cocked his head. “Something you’d like to add to the conversation?” he asked.

Wyatt swallowed. His mouth was like sandpaper. “Please,” he managed.

“Please, what?”

He swallowed again. “Please, I want—I want you, please, I want you to kiss me, I want you to fuck me, please.”

Flynn gave him a soft smile for a bare instant and then he was back to the detached, controlled expression from before. “Since you did ask nicely, and I did sort of promise…”

Wyatt didn’t even have time to prepare for the kiss, one moment staring up at Flynn and the next sucking on Flynn’s tongue as it was thrust into his mouth. He could well imagine the picture they made: Flynn still in his suit, untouched, barely a hair out of place, Wyatt with his shirt open, slumped in his chair, hard inside his jeans, hair mussed and his chest red and white from Flynn’s mouth and hands and come.

He wouldn’t be surprised if Lucy was surreptitiously taking some pictures for the album.

Flynn pulled back and Wyatt’s chest heaved as he sucked in breath after breath, tied down and yet also cast adrift. Flynn undid his pants the rest of the way, shoving them down, _fuck_ how had Wyatt not noticed Flynn didn’t have any goddamn underwear on, and casually rested his foot on Wyatt’s thigh.

Oh holy mother of God.

Flynn was going to fuck him all right, but not in the way that Wyatt had expected. Not at all.

Wyatt was pretty sure he could feel parts of his brain combusting.

Flynn’s smirk as he slowly prepped himself—taking his time the son of a bitch—told Wyatt that he’d been planning this from the beginning.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“What?” Flynn asked, moving to undo Wyatt’s jeans. “You think I don’t know where the lines are? How long you’ll be stubborn, when you’ll break, how to break you?” He kissed Wyatt’s jaw, finally, fucking finally, drawing Wyatt’s cock out and giving it a few firm strokes. “I know every inch of you, _Liebling_ , don’t think I didn’t have a plan.”

Of course, Flynn always had a plan. And while in the outside world those plans tended to go up in a blaze of fire and gasoline—especially when a certain feisty brunette was involved—in their bedroom, at least, Flynn’s plans for Wyatt (and Lucy’s plans for that matter) tended to go off without a hitch.

They didn’t often do it this way. Wyatt was a bit of a, well, he liked having something up his ass, all right, and if his dad was turning over in his grave for it then so much the better. But as Flynn sank down onto him, Wyatt was reminded that he did like this, and then he was a little overwhelmed by trying not to fucking come on the spot because holy _shit_.

Flynn cupped Wyatt’s cheek in his hand. “Hey, Wyatt, you still with me?”

“Definitely,” Wyatt said, although it came out a bit slurred. He really, really felt goddamn close to coming. Holy shit.

Flynn shifted and Wyatt whimpered, struggling not to buck up into him. Flynn smirked. “Too bad I didn’t tie your legs. I guess you’ll just have to be very good and hold still for me.” He started to move, then paused. “Oh, and feel free to start begging to come any time you feel like it.”

Oh Jesus Christ.

Flynn was clearly having fun with this, adjusting the angle to find the one he wanted, going fast and then slow, shallow and quick and then deep, careful, clenching. Wyatt thought he might lose it—and then Flynn got a hand around his throat again, his thumb pressing just under the front of Wyatt’s jaw to push his head farther back, and that was when Wyatt lost it completely.

“Please,” he managed, even through the fire in his lungs, through the _hottighttoomuch_ feeling shooting up his spine and back down again, making his legs jerk. “Please, Flynn, Garcia, I want—I need—can I—oh _fuck_ please—”

Flynn’s gaze flicked up from Wyatt’s face to behind him, and Wyatt knew that Flynn was double checking with Lucy.

He must have gotten permission, because he managed to bend down and kiss Wyatt one final time, deep, just a little sloppy. “Go ahead. Since you begged.”

Right, yeah, rub it in. Not that Wyatt had too much time to roll his eyes at Flynn’s smug victory, because Flynn sped up and Wyatt had permission to lose his goddamn mind now and so that was exactly what he did.

“Holy shit,” Lucy panted, once Wyatt could stagger to his feet (with some help from Flynn) and turn to look at her. She was happily sprawled out on the bed, flushed everywhere. “That was fun.”

“When the fuck,” Wyatt slurred, basically tripping and falling onto the bed, “did you get the idea to…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence, just making a lazy hand motion.

“When I realized that there wasn’t a good position to fuck you in while you were still tied to the chair and I was too lazy to untie you and then retie you down in a new position,” Flynn replied, crawling onto the bed and laying his head on Lucy’s thigh.

Wyatt managed to crawl farther up, until Flynn could drape an arm over him and Lucy could pet his hair. “Was that what you’d wanted?” Lucy whispered.

Wyatt nodded. It wasn’t the exact fantasy, but then, that fantasy had been about a man he hadn’t really known or understood and had been born out of Wyatt’s own self-loathing and homophobia, his own fears and insecurities. Of course it wasn’t going to be the exact same.

He’d even argue that this had been a lot better than whatever he’d cooked up in his mind way back when.

What he had now was so much better than he’d ever even let himself dream about.


End file.
